Advent
by BabygirlSash
Summary: Edward finally remembers his true past, his true Chosen, but is it too late? Harry is returned to him, but darkness descends upon Forks. The Cullens find their reality altered, but Edward finds what is worth fighting for - just in time to fight.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** - they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** - the credit of which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.  
**

**A...A  
**

_It's my own design_

_It's my own remorse_

_Help me to decide_

_Help me make the most of freedom_

_And of pleasure_

_Nothing ever lasts forever_

_Everybody wants to rule the world_

»Tears for Fears – Everybody Wants to Rule the World«

PROLOGUE

Snippets of hushed conversation could be heard around the well-lit room. Despite being sparsely furnished, with only one large elliptical oak table surrounded by fourteen matching high-backed chairs, there was a level of warmth and comfort to it that was almost tangible. This was offset, however, by the grim faces of the thirteen current occupants.

"Shall we begin?" the man at the head of the table enquired, though not really asking anyone.

Immediately the voices died down. Everyone focused their attention on the speaker.

"I've had word, from our most trusted informant, that activity in and surrounding our area is to increase – considerably."

Someone took in a sharp breath; others seemed to forget to breathe all together for a beat.

"Anything specific?" asked a strong female voice, knowing she had to keep steady at such a precarious time.

"Mostly vampiric, however, that could change and no one, _no one_ knows when or how."

"Is there an estimate on when this will begin?"

"We believe it already has, but will increase, and at a faster rate. The first victim, whom we know of, is the kid that went missing in Seattle – Riley Biers."

"That was months ago!"

"Slow build-up before the explosion seems to be the intent. We believe that they required another Vampire who has reasonable control first, before all out attacking the city."

For a moment, the room was filled with silence; the anxiety almost thick enough to feel physically.

"Why now?" asked another voice, his confusion not enough to hide his tension.

"The true reason cannot be known, not when we have little clue as to the endgame. We can only make educated guesses at this point. However, what is certain is that new players have entered the game, and more resources are now available."

"For us or for them?"

"For them."

"Where do we go from here? What's our plan of action?"

"We're to uphold our purpose, as we always have. The only difference is we may be called on a lot more frequently now. Much more may be asked of us now than ever before."

"We can handle it."

"But we must not be reckless. Now's not the time for playing heroes – there is too much at stake. The room for error is vast. We are unclear on a great deal, and should we couple arrogance with that ignorance – we will not live long."

"The Cullens –"

"Are unaware of us! And it shall remain that way until such time as it is unavoidable, or absolutely necessary."

"It may well become absolutely necessary, and much sooner than any of us anticipates."

"Then things will play out as they must."

"There is still the Quileute tribe."

"And their wolf-pack."

"Most of those boys have barely past the second level of training. And the Descendant is not yet of age."

"The tribe Elders are in agreement: it will happen soon. After that, it will be up to the Descendant whether he wishes to lend us his knowledge and power, and the power of his pack."

"He will."

"Probably, but it is not something we can ask of him. He must make that decision on his own, with as little outside influence as possible. Should he ask for advice or more information, we have a responsibility to be objective. Our goals, our needs, must not factor into it."

"So it may end up being just us against the world?"

"I thought we could handle it?"

"Don't get cute. You know what I mean. We can take on a lot, considering, but if we're to have no help at all…"

"That won't be the case. We await the arrival of our informant. In a few weeks time, come the new school year, he will be here with a small, but formidable group. They will help."

"Let's hope he's as useful as we've heard he is."

"His power is unparalleled; he will be of great assistance."

"If he has so much power, why can't he just get rid of the problem? Save us the risk."

"This _risk_ is our chosen responsibility. A duty we'd undertaken where ignorance and vulnerability were the worse of two evils!"

"Indeed. And while our champion's potency may be colossal, he is not a god."

"Our sheer strength will rely on our unity – our ability to band together and lend our help in something far, far greater than us. Our faith – in ourselves, our abilities, and what we stand for – will see us through. We will fight for what is just and we will do all we can to preserve what is precious – humanity."

**A...A  
**

"Humanity's destruction is upon us!"

The declaration was neither soft nor harsh. It was said merely as a statement of fact – an indisputable, inevitable truth.

The speaker, a ginger-haired man, well-built and looking to be in his forties, seemed gentle at first glance. However, not in any light could he ever be deemed unassuming. The power which radiated from him was immense; he commanded deference naturally, and it was easy to see why so many bowed to him, feared him.

Presently, a large crowd surrounded him. They filled a cold cavernous chamber, beautiful stone architecture all around, antique paintings on the walls at intervals.

Everyone paid rapt attention to the unspoken leader of them all. His words sent a thrill through them. The very air buzzed with anticipation.

"For too long have we lived in secret, hidden in shadow," he continued, voice filled with what could be compassion, if not for the sinister edge, ever present.

"We are, all of us, superior. In every way conceivable, we excel, surpassing every expectation. We are faster, stronger – in body and in mind. Our senses are incomparable. If the law of nature is "survival of the fittest", _we_ are supreme. By right, _we_ are the rulers of this world! Or we should be." The speaker paused here, looking significantly at each being in the room. "We should be."

There was silence for a moment, the powerful statements being absorbed, when the stillness was shattered.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the night. Harsh panting and pain-filled whimpers punctuated the silence that followed, before another scream, just as terrifying, just as thrilling rent the air once again.

Their commander left the large room swiftly, with a quick order for the rest of them to remain. Excited murmuring started up then. There were plans, grand plans, which were now being set in motion. So intoxicating was the feeling of anticipation, so strong the belief that victory would be theirs, they could taste it.

"Please – pl-please… help me…"

They all heard the exhausted, pain-laced and, to them, pathetic pants of a woman beseeching their master.

"Alas, my dear, you have fulfilled your purpose," was the soft, seemingly sorrowful response. "There is no more for you."

"I don't – what do you –"

Abruptly, the anguished query was cut off; the unnaturally loud sound of her neck snapping could be heard. No one flinched. A few smirked with pleasure.

Not long after that, the head of the gathering returned, a small, covered and squirming bundle in his arms. A viciously gleeful expression could be seen on his face. Carefully, he removed the rough material.

Previously hidden by the cloth, the large group could now make out a cub, much like a wolf, though larger than a regular newborn. Its coat was a dark gray, thick and still a bit matted. It growled at the crowd watching it, giving all a clear view of its extraordinarily sharp rows of teeth; the canines slightly longer than was normal. Young as it was, the animal's eyes, pitch black with no differentiation between the pupils and the irises, were wide open and malevolent. It began to struggle in earnest now, wanting to escape the hold on it – most likely for no reason that could be considered pleasant.

The master being's grip tightened, allowing no such thing. A laugh escaped his lips – a sound to raise the hairs on the back of one's neck, and send a shiver down one's spine, in expectation of peril. A few of his followers even felt some trepidation upon hearing it.

"It has begun!" he called out, his exhilaration plain for all to see. "Our time is upon us, friends!"

A collective cheer rang out. They had waited, bided their time making endless preparations. Their plans were finally coming to fruition, and none could deny the brutal joy felt by the gathering as a whole.

"Soon!" their leader and master thundered; his voice more forceful than ever in his fervor. "Soon, the world will know our domination! Soon – _We. Shall. Rise!_"


	2. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note:** Hi all! Thank you so much to all who've taken the time to read/alert/fave my fic, and especially to those few who've chosen to review. Any response (bar flames) means a great deal to me! This is the very first idea I've had for a fanfiction that has actually fleshed itself out. So far I seem to favor a slow build-up where my writing is concerned. I am very tempted to speed things up just to get it out there, but this story needs to be told at its own pace and I accept that. So it's going to be slow in the beginning – certain things need to be sorted before the action can kick in, but it will come. Trust me. Oh, as a side note, I am completely ignoring the theory that Vampires hearts don't beat. As simple logic proves: no heartbeat = no blood flow; no blood flow = no erection… I couldn't possibly do that to these boys, I'm sorry. As this is my very first story ever, please be kind. Constructive criticism is welcome; flames are not. That said – enjoy! (",)

**/A\**

_Masquerading as a man with a reason_

_My charade is the event of the season_

_And if I claim to be a wise man_

_It surely means that I don't know_

_On a stormy sea of moving emotion_

_Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean_

_I set a course for winds of fortune_

_But I hear the voices say_

_Carry on my wayward son_

_There'll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don't you cry no more_

»Kansas – Carry On My Wayward Son«

CHAPTER ONE

_Another day in the fabulous 'life' of the undead_, thought Edward Cullen sarcastically, sitting down with Alice and Bella at their usual lunch table by the windows. He resisted the urge to sigh loudly in frustration. Alice sent him a concerned glance, sensing Edward's restlessness and annoyance, being the closest to him of all in the family, apart from their father figure, Carlisle. Edward merely gave a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head. He would talk about things when he was ready – or rather when he figured out what was happening with him, for even he was unsure. Lately, Edward had been feeling increasingly like a caged lion, or an animal that sensed a great storm coming, and he had no inkling as to why.

Life in Forks had been moving along as it always had, although with a strange, lower-than-normal temperature drop as of late. He and his Vampire siblings put on the front of normal teenagers – albeit strikingly beautiful ones. The only difference being that Rosalie, Emmett and Jasper no longer joined Edward and Alice at Forks High School, having graduated the previous school year. Carlisle still worked at the hospital and Esme still spent most of her time in leisure, only working part-time as an interior designer. Edward and Bella, his human girlfriend, had recommenced their relationship after the debacle with the Volturi – an incident that irritated the relatively young being to no end, due mainly to the fact that it had happened at all. However, things were no longer the same – Edward could feel it. He knew, despite not being able to read her mind as he could everyone else's (being a telepath), that Bella was not significantly aware of the difference.

He did not know what, why, how this divergence was occurring, but the knowledge of it was strong within Edward. The fact that Bella did not seem to realize it made him suspect that the change had happened, or was happening with him.

He recognized that he was altered upon returning from Italy. He had thought this to be a small thing, something that would fade away quickly. He had been wrong. Something, some unknown thing, had shifted inside of Edward. He found himself disenchanted, jaded, with his existence as it currently was. But though he may no longer be the person that he used to be, he felt that he had never been more real – of this he had absolutely no doubt. For the first time in too long a time, Edward felt more like himself, like the person he truly was, as opposed to an imitation. He secretly rejoiced in this feeling, having forgotten what it felt like.

He did, however, worry as well. What was this change? Why was it happening now? What did it mean? He had so many uncertainties that he sometimes felt genuine fear. He felt fear of the unknown, fear of letting go of the safe routine his life had been for nearly a century, while simultaneously wanting to be released, then fearing that want. All the while, Edward went through it alone.

He knew that he had a very supportive and understanding family. He knew that they would do all they could to help him; he was eternally grateful for each and every one of them. He also knew, however, that, with his mind in such chaos, he would not be able to put into words what he was going through. He could not even explain it to himself yet.

Before Edward could think on it any further, he felt as though he was being watched. Surreptitiously, he looked around the cafeteria, searching for the culprit. Having to repeat high school was agitating as it was – he did not need plebeian probing to irk him further.

In the immediate vicinity, Alice was attempting to rope Bella into a shopping trip (which she had already planned); Jessica Stanley and Angela Weber were finalizing plans for a sleep-over; and Mike Newton was talking to Eric Yorkie and Ben Cheney about the pros of joining the football team. Tyler Crowley was absent, as he had been since the start of the school year a week ago – no one seeming to know why.

The surrounding tables seemed to be focused on much the same humdrum – the fashion-forward group discussing Paris Hilton, the football team discussing plays, the drama club (and its hopefuls) discussing the downfalls of Shakespeare (everyone was a critic, apparently).

He found no one inside the room paying particular attention to him, though. Glancing outside, purely to rule out the possibility, Edward caught sight of a boy by the parking lot, his eyes trained on him.

And suddenly the teenaged Vampire was assaulted with many images coming to him all at once. His eyes fluttered and he bowed his head while his body stilled completely. He tried to process everything he was seeing, which was proving difficult even with the speed of his vampiric mind.

He was seeing flashes. He saw himself laughing, relaxing, dancing. He saw himself zipping past different landscapes, from a brightly lit city to a dim, dense forest. He observed as he socialized in complete leisure, seemingly unburdened. He witnessed himself truly living, as opposed to merely existing, and with the type of freedom he rarely granted himself generally.

He saw what would be deemed unexciting things, but he also saw the contrary. He saw heated moments – touches, kisses, bodies entangled, flesh on flesh, not wanting to be unbound. Sweet looks, sweeter touches. Gentle caresses, possessive holds. And he felt. He felt the heat, the exhilaration, the calm, and, in every flash, mundane or not, he felt the love. He felt love and utter, utter contentment. The undeniable, enthralling certainty that came with knowing you were exactly where you belonged.

Just as abruptly as the scenes came, they stopped. Edward found himself inhaling deeply, desperately, as if coming up for air after plunging too deep underwater. He tried to keep his reaction from Alice and Bella, but found he couldn't bottle this up, as he did with his emotions at other times. Edward's already accelerated heartbeat seemed to have sped up, if that were possible, and his heart was most certainly attempting to tattoo the inside of his chest at that moment. His throat felt tight and his lungs were constricting in a way that would be painful, if not for the fact that he were a Vampire. Tentatively, he raised his head and looked outside.

The boy was gone.

Strangely, he felt disappointed by this. Edward did not know how he came to experience the flashes, but he did know, exclusive of rationalization, that none of them were fabricated. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he understood – every image, every scene that had gripped him so thoroughly had really happened. They were memories, _his_ memories. And every single one he had shared with _him_, the boy from the parking lot.

**A…A**

_I__taly was truly a magnificent city. One could go so far as to arguably say that most descriptions of its splendor and sophistication would be naught but understatements. The old-world feel of the city, from its cobbled walkways to its awe-inspiring architecture, charmed and captivated seemingly without exception. So enchanting was the very atmosphere of this place that even Edward, morbid as his motivation for being there was, could not help but be drawn in. And in being so immersed in all the thoughts and emotions that were evoked by the city, it became apparent very quickly that things were not as they should be, not as he remembered._

_Before stepping onto Italian soil, Edward had been consumed by his indomitable intent. Upon hearing of Bella's demise, he had felt certain that he could not go on living, or pretending to live, as it were. It was as if the very means of his survival had been taken away from him. Yet as he stood in the shadows, and basked in the otherworldly feeling he was receiving from his surroundings, this did not seem quite right to him._

_The comparatively young Vampire was caught up in a feeling that was very like déjà vu, and yet, at once, something different._

_He, along with the rest of his family, had been to Italy many a time; naturally, the place was familiar to him. The sense he was getting from it now, though, was not mere recognition of a place he had visited previously. The bronze-haired being, at that moment, was feeling a level of intimacy only caused by in-depth knowledge and experience – intimacy that comes from knowing secrets that were hardly ever divulged, and virtually never to outsiders._

_A city behind the city existed, and it was as if Edward could see it, feel it. In fact, it seemed to Edward that he had lived in it – but that couldn't be right, could it? Surely, he'd remember such a thing, especially considering the nature of his vampiric mind._

_So distracted was he by this seemingly new discovery, the eternal teenager barely noticed that he had been approached._

"_Well, well," said a deceivingly angelic voice behind him, "I had no idea we would be receiving a visitor at this time – did you, dear brother?"_

_Turning around, Edward found himself face to face with none other than the prize pets of the Volturi._

_Jane and her twin brother, Alec, were part of the inner circle of the Volturi guard. Barely fifteen when they were turned, they were by far two of the most favored, and most frightening, additions._

_Aro, the unofficial head of the Volturi coven and it's guard, fancied himself something of a collector – he delighted in acquiring more, and still more, talented Vampires to add to his already large force._

_Based on this, and his 'visit', Jane in particular seemed to be highly threatened – as Edward gleaned from her thoughts._

"_I rather thought to keep it a surprise," responded Edward lightly, as though his reason for being in Italy was nothing more than afternoon tea. His answer did surprise himself, somewhat, as the telepath was rarely so blatantly flippant. Despite this, he kept his features stoic as ever._

_A cold glint entered Jane's eyes then, as though she would love nothing more than to torture the younger Vampire right there, as he was fully aware she could. Edward merely raised an eyebrow. He could afford the luxury of arrogance at that moment, as they were not currently in a very secluded spot – Jane could not safely follow through on her desires. Exposure of their kind was the single most forbidden act among the Vampire populace._

_Alec, coming to this very conclusion, and no doubt sensing his sister's growing agitation, placed a hand upon her shoulder. The effect was instantaneous. Jane visibly calmed down, once again sporting the face of absolute child-like innocence._

"_Shall we go ahead and meet with our dearest leader then, Edward?" she asked affably, her tone soft and yet still with that ever-present touch of threat. "Father will be most pleased to see you, I'm sure."_

_The Cullen smiled – his expression as frigid as his skin. "Doubtless," was his simple, yet loaded, response before following the twins._

_And as he was lead through many shaded and deserted alleyways, before being taken underground to continue the journey through seemingly countless tunnels, Edward contemplated his situation._

_He had come here with his purpose set: beseech the Volturi to end his existence, and, should they refuse, take drastic steps to ensure that they would. Somehow, the undead seventeen-year old found himself distracted, and his mind-set shifted. It would seem to him that he no longer wanted what he thought he did…_

"I met with the Volturi," said Edward, coming out of his memories to focus once more on his Sire before him.

The darkness receded, and the damp stone walls of the underground passages of Volterra morphed back into the rich paneled wood of the walls in Carlisle's study. Edward slowly breathed in the scent of home, reassuring himself that he was indeed there, and had not thrown everything away, as he had so tactlessly decided – especially considering it would have all been for naught.

Two weeks had passed. A fortnight since Edward had had that one spike in his otherwise flat-lining existence.

His fleeting glimpse of the boy in the parking lot of Forks High School was something he had told no one of. Alice and Bella had tried constantly over that time to get any information out of him; they wanted desperately to know what had caused him to react so strongly that fateful day. As a matter of fact, Edward, himself, wanted to know just as badly.

He could still picture the boy all too plainly in his mind. He stood tall and proud, looking to be around six feet in height. He had messy midnight black hair, which he later imagined would be silky to the touch. His features were refined; his skin was smooth and glowed with a sun-kissed tan. And yet, taking all of this into account, his eyes were by far his most striking feature – almond-shaped, gem-like green eyes – liquid pools so deep one would surely happily drown in them. The young man, without a doubt, was one of the most stunning beings he had ever laid eyes on – not someone who could be disregarded or easily forgotten. Though his clothes – snug blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a well-worn black leather jacket – were nondescript, he most definitely stood out.

At least, he did to Edward. No one else, from what he garnered from their thoughts, had seen him. He would have believed the boy to be a figment of his imagination, if not for the memories he had received.

The recollections stayed on his mind constantly. He found he could not shut them out, and sometimes he did not even try. He thought that if he pondered on the flashbacks enough, perhaps he would remember more. Edward had come to the conclusion that these memories were from some time after his transformation. He could not understand how though. As far as he could tell, there were no gaps in his memory – at least, not since he's been a Vampire. These flashes, however, were remarkably clear; every detail could be recalled without obscurity, even the sounds and smells!

Edward was at a loss. He needed to see him again, to talk to him. He needed the boy to tell him who he was, and why he felt, inexplicably, that he was of great importance to him. This unknown person was driving him crazy and he did not even know his name!

Deciding he could take no more, at least not on his own, Edward sought an audience with Carlisle. His Sire may or may not be able to help him, with so little to go on, but he found that simply talking to Carlisle always put him at ease somewhat. Having the house conveniently empty of all other occupants, the young Vampire had walked up to the room he knew his father to be occupying.

The elder Vampire sat before him now, listening with great interest to the tale his eldest son was relating for the first time since it had occurred. The two of them were comfortably seated in the doctor's cozy second floor study, while the rest of the family had decided to take an impromptu trip to Seattle.

"I had told Aro why it was that I was there, in Italy," the youthful Childe continued, his tone detached. "I had not planned on revealing Bella's mortality to the coven, but, alas, Aro insisted upon reading my mind. Once that was done, I assured Aro that I no longer wished to go through with my initial plan. He would have seemed rather warm when wishing me well, except for the stray thoughts I garnered from him upon taking my leave."

Here Edward paused, allowing Carlisle the chance to speak, should he wish to. He did.

"I don't understand, son," he confessed, a slight frown marring his otherwise perfect features. "You say you forewent your original objective and that you were allowed to leave, but why did you then attempt to step into the sunlight anyway?"

"Ah, yes, that" Edward replied, a faint, humorless smirk on his lips.

Stepping into the sunlight, such a simple act, had been the plan Edward had settled on before he realized exactly what he was doing. It would have effectively exposed the supernatural to the humans, as Vampires tended to shine like disco balls in the sun, and would have lead to Edward's ultimate demise at the hands of the Volturi.

"I didn't attempt to step into the sunlight, Father. I was… nudged."

The doctor's eyes widened a bit. "Nudged?" he breathed out, finding this revelation immensely difficult to believe, but, at the same time, not doubting his Childe at all.

"Indeed," the young, gifted Vampire confirmed, a hard edge, almost undetectable, creeping into his voice. "That would be the precise moment that Bella collided with me, 'saving' me."

"Why?" was the Cullen head's simple query.

"It would seem that Aro required an excuse to kill me, so that he might use my life as leverage in order to get me to join his guard."

Carlisle seemed only able to shake his head, the underhandedness of their unofficial, self-proclaimed ruler now becoming apparent.

"Of course," Edward continued, tone laced with helpless agitation, "that ploy unintentionally brought their attention to a very much alive Bella, placing us in the unfortunate incident we now find ourselves in."

His father hummed, taking the opportunity to think on all that he had learned that afternoon – in a sense, continuing the conversation silently, due to his son's gift.

The Volturi now had a valid reason to pay his family close attention. Until Bella was turned, the Italian coven would seek them out. However, the solution would not be as simple as it might seem. For, should they eventually turn Bella, the act would definitively declare war with the Quileute tribe, as it would be a breach of their treaty. This, more than a fight with the Volturi, was something that Carlisle would not be able to tolerate. They maintained peace with the Quileute people. However uneasy the arrangement may feel at times, it was progression in the doctor's eyes. He would not have that destroyed.  
The Volturi, and, of course, their immense guard, were not to be trifled with, though. And now, it seemed, his family was in the spotlight. And through all of this, Carlisle still had the most trouble thinking about Aro's iniquity.

Carlisle had always, deep down, acknowledged that the Volturi, Aro specifically, saw his family as a threat. After all, there was no other coven of Vampires, which they knew of, as large as the Cullens, save the Volturi, themselves. Still, the Cullen head had always held a certain respect for the ancient leaders in Volterra. Never had he seriously thought that Aro would make such an aggressive, devious hit against his family – even if Edward was alone at the time.

By the time Carlisle looked up again, Edward had a deep frown marring his flawless features. He was sure that his Sire knew what was causing him to appear such; however Carlisle decided not to broach the subject just yet. Edward was grateful. He wanted to think on things further before he felt ready to address the issue with anyone else.

After a short moment, Carlisle raised a different, yet still related, topic.

"Am I to understand, Edward," he began slowly, non-confrontationally, "that you no longer feel for Bella as you once did? Or, perhaps, not as strongly?"

Edward glanced at his father. He remained silent for a while, thinking how best to answer truthfully.

"I believe I will always feel strongly for Bella, Father," the undead young man began carefully, not wanting to give half-truths, or bring about false expectations. "On a level that I still cannot really explain, we are bonded. That fact, at least, hasn't changed. However, I no longer believe that what Bella and I have is what I had thought it was, or perhaps hoped it was."

Edward ran a hand through his already unruly hair – a very human gesture that he had not made in a long while.

"When I was in Italy, that déjà-vu type of feeling that I got utterly confused me," the Childe continued, having taken a moment to get his thoughts in order. "But at the same time, I found myself to be indisputably intrigued."

The feelings that the city had brought out in Edward, those would-be memories, needed to be investigated. He had an undeniable want to know more – more about what he had felt, about what he had thought, and mostly about the shift in his very being. He was no longer the same, but was now more genuine than ever. He was, in some sense, evolving. He felt a great need to know why.

"More than being different," the one hundred and six-year old Vampire tried to explain, his voice impassioned, "I feel as though I am awakened, awakened from a deep, admittedly self-induced slumber. A goal had set itself firmly in my mind, filling me with such great determination, giving my existence new, and solid meaning."

Edward paused, gauging Carlisle's reaction to his heartfelt vocalizations. His father's eyes were shining with so much emotion – joy, intrigue, wonder, love, hope – that the younger Vampire could not help but feel a sense of child-like accomplishment. His Sire, his mentor, and his father felt this happiness because of him. It, in turn, caused Edward to be beyond pleased.

"I have realized something about myself that I am not exactly proud of," the Childe continued, sobering up somewhat, but not losing his good mood entirely. "I had been allowing myself to stagnate. For almost ninety years, my entire existence as a Vampire basically, it is as if I have been in hibernation. But now, Father, I have finally made the conscious choice to grow, to move forward. I'm finally realizing that nothing can be done about the past, but the best part about it is that it is over. It's time I lived again."

Carlisle sat back in his large leather wing-backed chair, seemingly staggered. He was still exuding all the feelings of a very proud father, though.

"Edward," he said softly, with clear admiration, "I have been waiting for this day, son – for as long as you have, but with as much patience as I could."

Edward grinned sheepishly, but did not interrupt.

"When I had first turned you, you had such great vibrancy and curiosity. This seemed to wane over the years. I had thought that it was merely this new form of existence taking its toll. I suppose I was partially correct. The loss, however, was most noticeable when you returned from the time you had spent on your own. I couldn't understand it fully, but, then, I hadn't been around for any experiences you might have had. I decided to give you your space, though; allow you to come to terms with things on your own. I assumed you would approach me when you felt you could. Well, it's taken a bit longer than anticipated, but here you are."

Carlisle chuckled, gazing fondly at his eldest Childe.

Edward gave him a small smile. He settled back in his own chair, taking a deep, albeit unneeded, breath. It was time, he thought, that he told someone of his present and primary enigma – the unknown young man he'd seen.

"There is more, father."

"More?"

"Two weeks ago," Edward began, deciding to get straight to the point, "while in the cafeteria at school, I had the strangest sensation of being watched."

Knowing what Carlisle was about to ask, both due to his thoughts and the look of worry on his face, Edward shook his head.

"No, not anything threatening – it felt as though I was being observed. I was. There was a boy in the parking lot staring in at me. And while his presence is significant, I believe, he isn't the most baffling occurrence."

Here the younger of the two Vampires paused, thinking how best to explain his experience, and simultaneously allowing the memories to come to the forefront of his mind.

"I... my mind – it seemed to open up spontaneously. I'm not entirely sure how to describe the incident. To put it simply, though, I remembered."

"Remembered what, Edward?" Carlisle enquired, trying to decipher what he was being told.

"Snippets," Edward replied plainly. "Snippets of a life I most definitely lived, but had no recollection of up until fourteen days ago."

Carlisle was at a loss. As far as he knew, Vampires did not suffer amnesia, or any type of memory loss for that matter. "How is that possible?"

Edward shrugged elegantly. "I… don't know. But I do know that the flashes I saw weren't fictitious; they were _my_ memories – memories experience with that very same boy I saw that day."

"The boy…?" Never before had Carlisle been so confounded. He had no idea what to make of any of this new information. Edward wryly considered that he could relate.

"He feels important, Sire," he stated. It felt imperative that he make his father understand this point, above all else. "Important, no, _vital_ to me."

Carlisle nodded, seeing that Edward required reassurance, but was still attempting to process what his son had just relayed.

"This still calls for consideration, son," he said carefully; caution must not be shirked.

Edward readily agreed. He had very recently been reminded of the value of his family, and quite forcefully at that. He was not going to allow any jeopardy to befall them if he could help it.

"But what exactly are we to consider at this point?" he asked.

And that, really, was the crucial question.

**A…A**

Bella Swan had never felt more adrift.

She was dead on her feet, completely drained, with no physical reason to feel that way. Almost home from another mundane day at school, Bella knew exactly the cause for her feeling this way – it being entirely emotional – but had thus far been rather successful in avoiding any thought on the matter. She simply wished to get home and not have to consider anything heavier than what to cook, at least for a few hours.

Parking her old and incredibly run-down, but extremely loyal, truck in the driveway next to her father's cruiser, Bella stepped out into the cold, moist air. Her whole body shivered as a gust of wind, colder than she'd ever remember it, hit her full on. She pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. It was only the beginning of fall – it shouldn't be this cold, even in Forks.

As she began walking up the path to the house, the front door opened. Bella paused. It was barely half past three in the afternoon – her dad shouldn't be home yet.

Someone Bella had never met before stepped out onto the porch. He had his head turned away from her, though, facing her dad, whom he was still having a conversation with.

Bella frowned in confusion. There was no apparent reason for it, but to her this all seemed to be very strange.

She was about to make her way to the house again, when the unfamiliar person turned towards her. Bella could not help the gasp that escaped her.

The boy, one around her age, as she now saw, was beautiful – ethereally beautiful. If not for the obvious discrepancies, Bella would have sworn he was a Vampire.

His fine, aristocratic features, framed by a mop of jet-black hair, seemed to be faultless; he moved with such grace that she had only ever seen the Cullens pull off, and with remarkable confidence (for one so young) exuding from his every movement. However, his skin was sun-kissed, not deathly pale, and his eyes were different.

Where, she knew, a Vampire could have only red or golden eyes, this unknown teenager's was the most unusual, striking shade of green. Bella almost felt hypnotized.

The stranger seemed to pause in his steps once he noticed her – though it happened so quickly, Bella was unsure if that truly was the case – before reaching his very fancy car on the side opposite the pathway. He raised his hand and gave her a short wave before climbing in.

Belatedly, Bella raised her own hand, but the stranger had already started his car by then, and was backing out onto the road.

Someone cleared his throat. Startled out of her daze, Bella turned to find her dad, Charlie, looking at her, an amused expression on his face. Blushing, Bella cleared her own throat, refusing to look away at her dad's teasing.

"So," she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, looking curious, "who was that?"

"Ah," her dad responded, looking to where the boy's car had disappeared, though it was long since out of sight. "That was a new resident of Forks, would you believe?"

Bella's eyes widened slightly. "Wow," she said, only half-joking. "Someone actually moved to this little backwater town? Did he come willingly?"

Her dad rolled his eyes, not deigning to respond to his daughter's banter.

"What was he doing here?" the teen inquired.

"Boy seems to be more well-mannered than any eighteen year-old I've ever heard of," replied Charlie, looking and sounding quite impressed by this. "Came over to introduce himself to the Chief of Police, thought it the polite thing to do, what with this being such a small and close-knit town."

It was Bella's turn to roll her eyes. "Sounds like a first class suck-up to me," she said good-humoredly. "He must be up to something."

The Chief just smiled at his girl's light-hearted behavior; it has been a while since he's seen her this way.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, effectively changing the subject.

Bella sighed in mock exasperation. "Really, dad, what did you ever do without me? I'm honestly interested in how exactly you managed to survive all those years."

**A…A**

After dinner, Bella decided, with full blessings from her dad, to go down to the Quileute Reservation. Having been under house arrest for quite a while after her return from Italy (though that part remained firmly hidden from Charlie), Bella had had little time to do much else besides her homework. That meant that seeing Jacob – or rather fixing up the mess she had created around herself and Jacob – had to be put off until such time that her father deemed appropriate.

The eighteen year-old teenager had had no problems serving her time, having taken full responsibility for her actions. Regardless of how deserving she was of punishment, though, being cooped up for such a prolonged period of time had been taxing on Bella. The fact that her best friend (she hoped), Jacob Black, had refused to answer her calls, or call her back, had only emphasized her need to go out and do something proactive about that particular situation.

Now, however, after a semi-lengthy conversation with her dad, that very morning, about the importance of evenly distributing one's time amongst all one's friends, it seemed Bella was off the hook. She honestly felt, though, that she could have done without her dad, however unintentionally, making her feel even worse about her treatment of Jake. It was just the spur she needed, nonetheless, to help get moving.

Once Bella was parked outside the Black family home, she paused before getting out of the truck, allowing her confusion to come to the front of her mind.  
She had been certain that, as soon as Alice informed him of her decision, Edward would attempt to stop her from reaching the Reservation. He definitely made no secret of the fact that he did not trust the wolves. And although Bella knew that, at least, some of her boyfriend's misgivings and anxiety stemmed from his own prejudices, she did understand them. Mostly.

Yet here she was, already in La Push, and nothing. There had been no one trying to stop her on the way, before she reached the treaty line, the boundary that the Cullens could not cross as they weren't allowed onto to Quileute territory; she had not even received a phone call. The young woman did not know what to make of it – unsure whether to be worried or relieved.

But then she saw Jacob exit his house, and her resolve, and reason for being there, came back to her once again in full force. Jacob's steps faltered when he noticed Bella's truck, before deciding, no doubt, to ignore it, and her, completely.

Bella huffed. She knew she had a lot to fix, but Jake did not have to make it so hard on her, did he?

Scrambling, she got out of her vehicle; she needed to get to Jake before he disappeared.

"Jake!" she called out to him, hoping he'd stop. No such luck.

"Jake! Wait up, will you? Please!"

It seemed her friend had become deaf in the short time she had not seen him, though, as he just kept walking on. Considering the fact that Jacob was now around six foot eight, this put quite a distance between them. Bella began to jog.

"Jake, please! Let me fix this!" she pleaded.

Her werewolf friend must have heard the desperation in her voice – he slowed down, and then came to a stop. He did not turn to face her, though.

Bella hurried on until she was beside him, panting slightly and berating her lack of fitness. She'd have to work on that.

"Thanks, Jake," she gasped out, her hands on her sides, trying to stave off the stitch that she felt.

Jacob remained silent, staring off into the woods, his features dour.

Bella decided to move to stand in front of the huge teen. This proved to be fruitless – she had to look up, straining her neck, in order to see him, while he had the advantage of just being able to look right over her head.

Bella growled in annoyance. She punched Jake in the chest, and while it was little more than an aggressive tap, the young girl still felt some pain shoot up her arm.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, pulling back and massaging her knuckles lightly. Who knew werewolves were so solid!

Jake moved forward a bit then, as though to check that she was ok, but stopped himself. At least he didn't look away, though.

"Can we fix this, Jake?" Bella asked softly, earnestly, while she had his attention. "Please."

He sighed then, a long and tired sigh that made him sound so much older than he was. Bella did not like it. Jacob was her best friend – her always smiling, laidback, ever-warm best friend. He did not deserve to have any kind of immense weight on his shoulders. She wanted to be there for him, hoped he would still let her. She would not mind, at all, helping with some of the burden. She needed to somehow make things right, better.

"Fix what, Bells?" he asked wearily.

She was quite sure the endearment was a slip, but that didn't stop it from making her feel much lighter, more hopeful. She tried not to let it show, though. She still had some explaining to get through. And groveling.

"Are we going to talk out here?" Bella asked, knowing the type of conversation they had ahead of them.

"Good a place as any."

Bella closed her eyes briefly, holding off her irritation at Jacob's attitude. She was the one who had something to mend, the one responsible (at least mostly, in her opinion) who allowed the creation of this rift. Jake had no obligation's to make things any easier on her.

"Fine," she huffed, opening her eyes and flopping down on the ground right where she was.

"What are you doing?" Jake asked, looking down at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Getting at least a little comfortable," was the even response. "We need to talk."

Bella then looked pointedly at the towering teenager until he rolled his eyes and sat down in front of her, cross-legged.

The petite brunette took a deep breath, wondering if she should have rehearsed a speech. She decided that it was better she hadn't, however; it was better that this came from the heart. Sincerity was the key.

"I know I've hurt you, Jake," Bella began, getting straight to the core of the predicament. "I know I've been hurting you, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am."

She paused, watching for any reaction from the russet-skinned boy before her. Bella saw as his jaw clenched and unclenched, clearly tense, his hands busy pulling up blades of grass. He was listening; she could tell. He neither hindered her speaking, though, nor did he help her along. She chose not to take this as a negative thing and continued.

"Running to Alice, or to… to Italy – I know it seemed like that was me choosing the Cullens over you. I understand how it could be taken that way, justifiably. I do. But that's not what it was!"

Jacob scoffed, seemingly unconsciously. He looked over her head again, into the darkness of the woods far behind her. He said nothing.

"No, listen to me, Jake. That wasn't it, I swear! You know, Jacob! You know what I went through – you were with me for most of it –"

"Exactly!" Jake burst out suddenly. His eyes were blazing, filled with hurt and accusation as he turned his stare on her. Mostly hurt. Bella winced at the sight of it.

"Exactly, Bella! _I_ was there for most of it. _I _was the one helping you, picking up the pieces that _he_ left behind! I did that for _you_, Bella – for you. It's not like I was expecting a reward or anything, but you… it felt like you got all the use you could out of me and as soon as _they_ came back, that was it. You ran off, left me behind. You left me behind."

This last was whispered in a voice so utterly dejected that Bella felt her heart crack. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to be the one who ended up needing comfort. That was Jacob; this was about Jacob. She didn't think she would ever experience this level of self-disgust, however. She did this, and to someone she considered her best friend.

"I never wanted to cause you pain, Jake," Bella said, not able to stop the quiver out of her voice, hoping her eyes conveyed the authenticity of her words, her feelings. "But I did, and I feel awful for all that I've done to you and how I made you feel – while you were trying to help me and after, when they…

"I know that seems like too little, and maybe it is, but, Jake, please believe me. I was in no way making a choice between one or the other. I really feel I shouldn't have to. He means so much to me, but you are just as important to me, Jacob. On levels I can't even begin to comprehend! I love you, Jake!"

Jacob's head snapped up at that; Bella felt staggered by the intense joy and hope radiating from him. Instantly, she felt worse. What was she saying? She knew, she _knew_ how Jake felt about her, and here she was, saying things that could potentially be even more disastrous – to the both of them.

"As a friend, Jake!" she was quick to backpedal. "I meant I love you as a friend, my best friend."

It didn't seem as though this put the Quileute boy off in the slightest. He eyes were sparkling with life and buoyancy, and he was giving her his sunshine smile. Bella was ecstatic to be seeing it again, but she wasn't sure she wanted it out of a misinterpretation.

"Jake, it's not like that between us," the pale teen tried again. "I've told you before: I don't feel the same way."

"You may have meant that at one point, Bells," Jake said, his voice lighter than she'd heard in a while, even in his voicemail message. "But things have changed between us; I _know_ they have."

"Maybe that's just what you want to believe, Jacob."

"You and I both know that's not true, Bella. You came here to, as you claim, get your best friend back, but you refuse to see that you can't bear to have me out of your life. That already shows that you see me as more than just a friend."

"Yes, you're more than a friend," Bella said, trying not to get agitated by her _friend's_ stubbornness. "You're my _best_ friend."

"Don't kid yourself, girl," Jake scoffed, his eyes brilliant and focused compellingly on her. Bella's head swam for a moment, as though she were dazed. Jacob could be intense sometimes. "You wouldn't come, no, _sneak_ all the way out here, not telling your _boyfriend_, for just a friend. You wouldn't look at me, Bella, as though you feel what I feel so deeply – like my every pain were your pain. Not if I were _just a friend_."

Bella looked away from Jake's passionate eyes, breathing a bit heavier. She must really be upset by Jacob's misunderstanding. All the same, she had no idea how to respond to the wolf's words. More importantly, she had no idea how to deter him.

Jake placed his hand under her chin, turning her head so that she had to look at him. His eyes had softened somewhat. Bella found the gentle care which shone through them now flustered her even more for some reason.

"You should go home now, Bells," he whispered.

"What… why?" she asked, startled. She was not entirely sure she could be in Jacob's presence right now, but she also didn't really want to leave.

"We're cool now, Bella," he replied, easing some of her earlier worry – knowing, as he often did, what she needed to hear. "But part of the pack is on patrol tonight – including me."

The weight of those words hit Bella like a punch to her gut. Her breath came out in one big burst.

"Hey, it's ok," Jake reassured, pulling her into an awkward hug, considering they were still seated on the ground. "It's just routine, hun. Making sure the red-head doesn't get any further than we allow – if she even shows up at all."

"But, Jake, no!" Bella exclaimed loudly, fear evident in her voice. "What if –"

"What if nothing, Bella. I doubt anything exciting will be happening tonight, but if it did we can take care of it. Have a little faith."

He smiled blindingly again, getting up first and then helping her up as well.

Bella couldn't speak for a moment, too caught up in morbid thoughts of the pack – the young boys – that were risking their lives. For her. It was almost too much to bear.

Jake pulled her into a proper hug, comforting her silently. Bella held on tight.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" he said softly into her hair.

The distressed teenaged girl could only nod against her impulsive friend's chest. Pulling away, she looked up at Jake. His eyes shone with happiness; the strength and – and love that he exuded was near overwhelming. Maybe she didn't feel the same way, but she just knew she couldn't lose him.

"See you, Jake," she said softly, then, more commandingly, "I better see you!"

Jake let out a short bark of a laugh and leaned down to kiss her on her forehead.

"You will, girl, don't stress."

He walked a couple of steps back, not taking his eyes of Bella. "Now go on, get out of here. We got work to do."

"Just… be careful, Jacob!" Bella couldn't help but call out as she watched her supernatural friend lope off.

Jake responded by throwing a cocky smirk over his shoulder at her.

Shaking her head, Bella headed home, her mind working overtime. Too much could go wrong, and very quickly. She was at the centre of so much potential mayhem. So many of her loved ones were endangered, and Bella did not have a clue as to how she could possibly help.

If only she were more than just a simple teenaged girl…

**/A\**

**Author's Note 2: **So, like I said earlier – slow start. Go with me on this though; I'm really excited to be telling this story – I hope it turns out as good on paper as I saw it in my head :P  
Also, please don't expect all updates to be quite so quick... this chapter was already written, with just the last few kinks to sort out. With a baby, a job and my studies, though, new chapters won't necessarily be up quite so fast.

I need a little help though… being from South Africa, I'm uncertain on the schooling in the U. S. I simply need to know the times that schools in the U. S. vacation. I just don't want to have the characters be in school when they would actually be off and vice versa. I'm not entirely sure whether I'll be specific with the times in any event, but just in case… it would be nice to know :)

Right, so, on that note, please review. I would really like to know what you guys think – there's always room for improvement, right? Comments, constructive criticism, suggestions – I'd love to hear from you! Thank you :)


	3. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Hi all! So, I just realized that I've messed with the Twilight timeline – this was unintentional. Now, for the purpose of this story, Twilight would have taken place during Bella's sophomore year (I believe) and New Moon would have taken place during her junior year at Forks High. This story then begins during everyone's senior year. Ok, now that that's out of the way, a big thank you to all who've read/reviewed this story, and to those who've added it to their alert/favorite lists :) MWAH! Without further ado, please read, enjoy and review…

**/A\**

_I don't know where I'm at_

_I'm standing at the back_

_And I'm tired of waiting_

_I'm waiting here in line_

_I'm hoping that I'll find_

_What I've been chasing_

…

_I'm not ready to let go_

_Cause then I'd never know_

_What I could be missing_

_But I'm missing way too much_

_So when do I give up_

_What I've been wishing for?_

_I shot for the sky_

_I'm stuck on the ground_

_So why do I try_

_I know I'm gonna fall down_

_I thought I could fly_

_So why did I drown?_

_I'll never know why_

_It's coming down, down, down_

»Jason Walker – Down«

Chapter Two:

The dream-catcher Bella had received, her birthday gift from Jacob, was hanging on her headboard, like it had since she'd got it. Made of wood and string and feathers, it strongly reminded one of the Earth – Mother Nature and her silent supremacy. It was not a particularly intricately woven piece, and yet it was stunning in its simplicity. Edward was unsure as to why his attention was so drawn to it now, but it was. No ill feelings accompanied his interest, though. On the contrary, he felt at ease considering the trinket. A deep sense of peace settled within him.

It was not the charm itself, Edward knew, it was what it symbolized. Bella was not, and would never be alone – she had protection and perhaps... love. This was what he wished for her, and more.

"Edward," Bella said as she came into the room. The Vampire could tell, before he turned around, that she had just come from her bed-time shower – the smells of her body wash, and especially her strawberry shampoo, were still strong.

Turning away from the ornament, he faced her with a gentle smile. For all the changes he was experiencing, Edward still cared for Bella, adored her, it simply was no longer as it used to be.

"Bella," he returned softly. He took a seat upon her bed and she got comfortable next to him.

She took a deep breath, seeming to work up the courage for something, before she asked her question shakily.

"Are you... upset with me?"

Edward was confused for a moment, as evident by the slight frown upon his face.

"Why should I be upset?" he asked after a pause, genuinely curious as to the answer.

"Well... it's just that I – I went down to La Push earlier... I thought that... you'd..." she trailed off uncertainly, noticing the amused smile gracing the outwardly teenage boy's features.

"I am not upset with you, Bella," Edward clarified lightly. "I am aware that you went down to the Reservation today."

"Then why...?" It was now Bella's turn to be confused, Edward noted. "I thought you would..."

"Stop you?" asked the Vampire affectionately. "Or perhaps throw a tantrum?"

"You're making fun of me!" the teen huffed, folding her arms across her chest, as Edward chuckled.

"I am not," he said soothingly, his humor still plain. "I can see how you would believe I'd react that way, given my past... behavior. While I was concerned when Alice eventually told me of your trip, I do understand why you went."

"This makes no sense, Edward," Bella said, shaking her head as she tried to piece together what she was hearing and what she has known to be true in the past.

"It wouldn't," the young Vampire said cryptically, and then went on to elaborate seeing Bella about to inquire. "I've been doing a lot of… soul-searching, I guess you could say. Imagine that."

Edward chuckled lightly at his choice of phrase. He had made no secret of the fact that he had previously believed Vampires to be soulless creatures. He found he was not so certain anymore. He shook his head lightly, focusing once more, before continuing.

"I've been thinking a lot about what I was and about what I know I can be – which has been long overdue, I believe. In any event, to explain my lack of reaction regarding your going to the Reservation, I was not being entirely fair – to you or to the wolves. My initial reaction and dislike was based on the fear I had felt when I thought you were…" Edward still could not bring himself to speak the word 'dead' out loud, so he moved on without. "And also fear of harm coming to you in any way if I could stop it. It was me… overcompensating, basically, after realizing that I'd put you in a dangerous position to begin with. That coupled with past prejudices allowed for my less than savory overreaction to your interaction with the wolves – with Jacob."

"So…"Bella clarified slowly, a rather smug smile forming on her face, "what you're saying, ultimately, is that you were _wrong_?"

"Not wrong, per se," he replied, allowing an amused smile to show nonetheless, "simply overdoing it."

"Yeah – wrong," Bella laughed. Edward merely shrugged in his elegant manner.

A sigh escaped the teenaged girl's mouth, once the mirth had died down. Edward gave her an enquiring look, but said nothing, permitting her to lead the conversation. Bella focused intently on her blue comforter though, picking at barely there threads.

"Edward," she began softly, tentatively, "I've… I don't know if I'm seeing things wrong, or reading things incorrectly, but I've noticed a change lately… with us."

Edward sighed internally – trust him to underestimate Bella's observational skills, regardless of how many times it had surprised him in the past.

"I don't want to read too much into it – I mean, not every bump in the road leads to a break-up, right?"

She giggled uneasily – Edward's main clue as to the insecurity Bella was feeling right now. Bella never giggled.

"Anyway," she continued before the older being could respond, "I'm probably over-analyzing things, right? Looking for something where there isn't really anything after the – after the birthday thing…"

She looked up at him then, her expression so open and vulnerable, clearly hoping that Edward would allay all her fears with a charming smile and a roll of his eyes. She wasn't ready, he thought resignedly to himself. As always, Edward felt overcome by the weight of Bella's needs. Never had Bella ever expected him to put her above himself – in fact, she had on numerous occasions previously done just the opposite, thinking first of him, making things as easy and as convenient as she possibly could regarding his vampirism.  
He, however, had always needed to make sure that Bella had what she wanted, and what she needed, putting her feelings before his own – bar changing her, of course.

Now was no different – that much, it seemed, had not changed significantly.

When Bella was more stable, he told himself, more sure of herself and, perhaps, of her true feelings, then he would make her understand that they could no longer be as they had been. Until then the very least he could do was give her some temporary peace of mind. For now, he could do that much.

"I never did apologize for that, did I?" Edward enquired soothingly, while managing to evade the subject entirely and avoid lying outright.

"You did, Edward," Bella said, puzzlement lacing her tone. "But I understand why you did it."

"You misunderstand me, Bella," the Vampire clarified. "I mean for the very choice I made, the action I took, not just the consequences of it. Leaving entirely, leaving you open and vulnerable to danger, uprooting my whole family… I was very foolish, very brash and arrogant in my own righteousness – very much like a seventeen-year old boy I appear to be."

Edward let out a slightly self-deprecating laugh.

"I am sorry, Bella," he continued, his voice sobering. "It's hardly enough, I'm aware."

"No, Edward, it's… thank you," Bella reassured hurriedly. She moved, though hesitantly, to sit upon Edward's lap. Almost instinctively the Vampire's arms moved to support her.

"How about we do something together, just the two of us," she asked shyly, hopefully. "We haven't been to the meadow in a while. Maybe we could spend the day there tomorrow, it being officially the weekend."

Yes, Edward would give Bella all she needed, if he could. Spending an entire day skirting around the inevitable, giving false hopes, and lying directly to her, though, was something that he just could not stomach.

"I… that won't be possible, Bella," he said cautiously. He watched her reaction carefully, and was not pleased by it, not at all.

Her face dropped and she cast her eyes downward in disappointment. Still, Edward found he simply could not go through an entire day faking everything.

More than that, however, Edward was still greatly involved in sorting through the thoughts and feelings he was having as of late – concerning the unknown young man he'd seen, as well as the ever-more potent anxious anticipation of… something. Something was coming. He did not know what or when or whether it would be for good or not, but he felt, almost instinctively, that it would be momentous.

Considering all this, he just knew that he would not manage to keep his mind present, as it needed to be when Bella was concerned. And so he gave the simplest, most plausible excuse he could.

"I'll be going hunting this weekend; a few of us haven't gone in a while, including myself. It would not be the wisest thing to put it off."

Bella nodded slowly, saying nothing for a long moment.

Eventually, after a taking a deep breath, she said, "I understand. You need this – can't have you starving, can I?"

She chuckled softly, the sound not having nearly enough emotion in it. Edward would have felt guiltier if not for the fact that he hadn't actually lied – he did need to feed. Instead, he only leant down and placed a gentle kiss on Bella's forehead.

"Get some rest," he whispered, lightly pulling at the covers beneath them. Bella got into bed without protest and he placed the comforter over her, tucking her in.

"You are staying tonight, right?" the reserved teen asked, sleep already creeping up on her, even as she looked imploringly up at Edward.

"Of course," was the serene response before Edward watched Bella drift off.

**A…A**

Edward did not stay long the next morning. Just before Bella went to the bathroom for her morning routine, he had simply said that he'd probably be back late on Sunday, or early Monday morning, that he'd probably be going hunting with Jasper (who needed it the most of them all, with his precarious control), and that he'd see her at school. Before disappearing he allowed a small kiss, and then was gone.

As the immortal being raced home his mind wandered, as it often did when he was alone, to the flashes of memory he had experienced that fateful day. Nothing like that had happened to him again since then – something that sorely disappointed him.

For some unknown reason Edward had lost some of his memories. As such, a portion of his life was lost to him. He could barely stand the thought of it. Now that he knew of this missing part of him, though, he wanted it back. He could not hope to get it back on his own, however. He had tried – oh, how he had tried – but to no avail. Not a scrap more than what he had already seen would come to him. He had no idea what had been the catalyst in receiving some of his misplaced memories, and so had no way of recreating a situation in which he would remember more. He knew one thing, though: the boy was important.

Edward needed him. Perhaps if he saw him again… maybe then he would flash again. Perhaps if he actually got to speak to him things would be made all the more effortless. But for now that was all he had – maybes, what ifs. It aggravated the young Vampire no end. He wanted, needed something more concrete, and had no way of getting it.

The emotions compounded within Edward to such an extent that, by the time he got home, he felt utterly defeated. It was rather anticlimactic, actually. He felt almost lethargic because of the helplessness of it all – probably the closest a Vampire could get to the actual feeling. Now he only wanted to sit up in his room and stew, and brood – and wasn't that just like how he used to be, for all those years.

No. He would not. Edward had made the conscious decision to grow, to move forward, to live. Were those not his very words to Carlisle? He could not, and would not revert to his old ways simply because things felt hopeless now. He needed to get his mind off his memories and off that boy. There was nothing to be done at present and, so, he would just have to be patient. Immediately, though, a distraction was necessary.

"Jasper," he said as he walked through the door. "I'm going to go hunting, preferably for big game. Are you going to accompany me?"

As he strode into the pristine living area of the house, he noticed Carlisle at one of the computers further into the room, but first and foremost he noted Emmett.

The burly Vampire was lounging in front of the flat-screen television, focused on his Playstation game. In fact, he was concentrating a bit too heavily on it. He was ignoring Edward – or attempting to, at least. From the clenching of his jaw and the stiffer than usual posture, however, it did not seem to be working. Emmett, he also noticed, was managing to keep his mind determinedly blank.

Edward held back a sigh. It had been like this ever since his return from Italy. His normally happy-go-lucky, take-it-as-it-comes younger brother was angry with him. The bronze-haired Vampire could hardly blame him. Instead he understood exactly where he was coming from.

Edward had acted recklessly in deciding to take his own life, in the very manner of a spoiled, uncaring brat, and had consequently succeeded in endangering his entire family. He had disregarded their thoughts and their feelings, treating each and every one of them as though they were insignificant, disposable. After so many decades of being a family, of knowing them to be the very reason for his sanity, and of assuring them that, as long as he had them, he was fine – in one fell swoop he almost threw it all away. He almost threw them all away.

He now realized this fully. And he realized how it had affected each of his kin in turn – acutely. His actions had angered Emmett greatly, yes, but deeper than even that they had hurt him.

In many ways, Emmett truly was Edward's younger brother, even if not by blood. He looked up to him in a sense, learned from him when he was turned, sought him out when he believed he'd done something wrong, when he needed to vent, when he needed a different perspective. He didn't always take Edward's advice, but he did listen to it. Emmett respected him, his word, his position as an older member of the family. And, up until the catastrophe that had occurred in Volterra, he had had unwavering faith in Edward's protection of the family.

A big blow had now been dealt to his belief in his older sibling, though, causing him to be disoriented and insecure where his relationship with his brother was concerned. This shook Emmett more than he was willing to admit to anyone.

Something had to be done; Edward was aware of this. He was unsure exactly how to approach this dilemma, however. If he simply attempted to speak to Emmett, he knew he would either be immediately shot down or shut out. His younger brother was not usually stubborn. Nevertheless, Emmett did not know how to handle hurt and insecurity. Doubtless, he would allow the feelings to grow and fester, until all he felt was deep resentment. Edward would not allow that.

He would fix this. He would ensure that their solidarity, their comradeship survived, stronger than ever. He just had to figure out how.

Lost in thought, Edward had not realized that Jasper had descended the stairs until he was right next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. His adopted sibling sent him a questioning look, curiosity and concern both clear in his dark eyes. Being the empath of the family, Jasper could sense the feelings warring within the young Vampire.

Edward looked toward the older Vampire and gave him a reassuring nod, answering the question as Jasper thought it. All things considered, he was fine. No doubt being a soldier previously (and still being one, in his mind and demeanor), not being aware of one's surroundings was a truly worrying thing to Jasper. Of course, it was a troubling thing to Vampires in general. With their enhanced senses and faster minds, things should never just slip by.

"Yes," Jasper responded to the original question in his ever calm voice. "I will be accompanying you, Edward. I'd rather not go too long without feeding again – even if I am no longer subjected to high school."

Edward smirked at that – the unacknowledged torture of the youth: _high school_.

"You are indeed quite lucky in that regard, Jazz," he deadpanned. Jasper smirked back.

"You should go as well, Emmett," Carlisle unexpectedly spoke up, still focused on the computer.

Edward and Jasper watched silently as Emmett's head snapped toward their father-figure. He was silent for a moment as he just stared.

"No, that's all right," he finally said slowly. "I'll go with Rose later."

"An opportunity to hunt now has presented itself, Emmett," Carlisle responded, finally looking away from his research. He leveled his youngest Childe with a firm look, obviously not to be denied. "You should go now."

It may have been stated as a request, but it was plain to all that Carlisle would not be taking 'no' for an answer. It was not often that Carlisle saw fit to act as Sire as opposed to father, as he usually did, but Edward understood why he did so now. A quick glance at the Cullen head's thoughts confirmed it. Carlisle was hoping the rift that had formed, between Edward and Emmett, would somehow be mended on the hunt.

Recognizing defeat, the over-large Vampire got off the couch with huge huff, as though the very act cost him a great deal. The whole thing screamed 'petulant teenager', and Edward had to work to conceal his smile. He managed it, though; it would not do to upset Emmett further when he wished to reconcile.

As any comment made would be unwelcome, the three supernatural beings left without a word. Edward, however, gave Carlisle a barely noticeable, thankful nod as he passed him – this could aid him in gaining Emmett's favor once more. At least, he hoped.

**A…A**

Edward felt exhilarated. Never before had a hunt ever felt so… _good_. Of course, he had never allowed his instincts to take over in such a way, never allowed his true nature as a predator to reign.

As a newborn, the impulse of a hunter took over entirely – no control was maintained purely because, as a newly turned Vampire, one did not know how. A Vampire's mind worked faster and various thought threads could be held at once. Also, because everything looked so different, so new from a Vampire's perspective, especially as a newborn, they were easily distracted trying to assimilate everything simultaneously. This was different, though.

This time Edward let go, fell into the role of the ultimate predator with ridiculous ease, and at once remained completely aware and in control. It was as if he were seeing the world through a different set of eyes. Everything was sharper, brighter – nothing escaped his attention. Along with his sight, his other senses seemed elevated as well, more so than usual. Every texture that he felt could be differentiated; every smell that came to him was distinct. For a moment it was purely Edward and nature. The Vampire closed his eyes briefly, simply taking everything in, reveling in it all. He felt lighter, freer than he'd ever felt before. And then it came to him.

The smell of mountain lion was wonderful to him, the thirst making itself known then. Naturally, the smell was not quite as heavenly as the scent of human blood. The blood of human beings was sweet, much like what one would imagine ambrosia to smell like; it was more akin to dessert than the actual meal, in fact. The scent of a carnivore, though, had a bitter edge to it – spicy as opposed to saccharine. It was not unappealing, he supposed, merely different.

For a while, Edward just stood in the shadows, watching the graceful and powerful animal. The large lion was pacing, clearly agitated. It sensed danger – that much was certain. It may not have been able to see the threat, but it was aware of it. The undead being was sure that, as a predator as well, the lion was not used to feeling vulnerable, scared; and it was scared – Edward could smell the fear rolling off of it in waves. While this was not something he usually took pleasure in, the sense of power it afforded was heady. It was so intoxicating in this moment, in fact, that Edward acted in a way he could not remember ever doing before. He decided he was going to chase, instead of merely capturing this time.

He stepped away from the cover of the woods and stopped, making himself known.

He heard the confusion in both Emmett and Jasper's thoughts (they, too, were aware that this was not the way he usually behaved on hunts), but he pulled away from their minds, their thoughts, and focused all of his attention on the lion. The great animal was crouched defensively and had gone as still as was possible for it. Still, Edward could hear its accelerated heartbeat and its breathing – heavier than normal.

And suddenly it fled. Into the woods at the opposite end, away from Edward, the lion ran, going against its very nature as a hunter. It had now become the hunted. The Vampire waited a full minute before giving chase. Like the bullet out of a gun, Edward raced after his prey – mind and senses perfectly synchronized and alert. Every time he came within pouncing distance, the immortal would allow the animal to move further away again. He tested himself against it – tested his senses, his speed and his tracking. Though he was not very proficient in that last, the mountain lion was hardly subtle. Edward found he could easily always find it, always catch up to it, until finally the large cat found itself backed into a corner of sorts.

It whirled around to face its threat, a loud and vicious roar leaving it. It pawed at the ground in distress, knowing now that there was no way to avoid this confrontation, and probably also knowing, instinctually, that it could not win either.

And as he crouched, ready to pounce, their eyes locked – golden on onyx – the lion swiping the air as though taking a swing, it happened. Edward flashed.

The animal charged and probably plowed right into him, but the Vampire's mind was far away, locked in memories of a time long since passed.

_Edward stood crouched before the greatest feline he had ever seen – the saber-toothed tiger. The powerful animal stood at about the height of a stallion, but was as wide as perhaps three abreast. Its paws were larger than the young Vampire's face and its extended canines were almost as long as his forearms. Edward was in so much awe of the grand and fierce beast that it completely overshadowed any fear he may have felt. As it was, the saber-toothed tiger seemed to have no terror in his presence, coming across as only highly irritated. For some reason, probably due to the fact that his mind was hazy with wonderment, the eternal being found this to be funny._

"_Edward! Stop grinning like a fool and prepare yourself!" a greatly aggravated voice suddenly called out. He stood at a distance, but his beauty was still captivating. Edward felt a different distraction taking hold of him; he found himself caught and held by deep emerald eyes – his love's eyes._

"_Edward!" he yelled again, pointing frantically to the predator before him, which he had all but forgotten._

"_Right," he called back to his Chosen, shaking his head to clear it. "I'm focused, I'm focused!"_

_It was too late, though. The saber-tooth charged and tackled Edward to the ground. Unlike any regular animal the Vampire had ever come across, this one was successful in its attack. That was because, unlike any regular animal, this one had magic running through it – it, too, was a supernatural creature._

_Edward got out from under it fairly quickly, but the beast was not deterred. It swiped with one of its huge paws, with who knew exactly how many tons of power behind it, aiming for Edward's chest. He managed to side step, though, avoiding most of the damage. The tiger did manage to get his left shoulder, however. Three deep gashes formed, thick streams of blood seeping out. Vampire blood was thicker than human blood, and so the flow was slower. Edward was already starting to heal, but that didn't mean he didn't feel the burn from the creature's own unique kind of venom._

_He hissed lowly and moved further out of reach, even as the animal continued to try and get at him. If he could perspire, Edward knew he'd be drenched. His heart, already beating at an accelerated pace, was threatening to jump right out of his rib cage. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were dilated – everything seemed too bright. He felt as though his brain was trying to assimilate too much all at once. He had never come across any animal that could bring out such reactions in him. Every kill he'd ever made had been easy – of course they had been. Being a Vampire, Edward had never known anything to be a greater danger than he himself was. With super strength, super speed and superbly enhanced senses, what could possibly be superior to a Vampire? Edward was fast coming to realize that the world was a much larger place than he could have ever known, with far more beings and creatures being on a level with Vampires rather than inferior._

"_Fight him, Edward," he suddenly heard his love shout to him. "He's powerful and dominant – it's all he comprehends. He will not simply submit. You have to fight him! Only then will he see you as an equal; only then will he take you seriously as the threat that you are. You're the perfect predator, Edward – harness it. Own it!"_

_Edward nodded his understanding, but did not say anything. He could not. The saber-tooth came at him again, and this time the Vampire did not back away._

_The tiger was fast, strong and intelligent, but it lacked perception. Dodging another strong strike, Edward retaliated quickly with a solid uppercut just as powerful, if not a bit more so. The force lifted the great feline so that it teetered on its hind legs for a moment before crashing to the ground. Disoriented, the tiger got to its feet, attempting to shake itself out of the daze. Not wasting any time, Edward launched himself into the air and at the animal. Grabbing it about the neck with his left arm, the Vampire swung himself around, effectively bringing them both forcefully to the floor once again. He pinned the saber-tooth underneath him, straddling its waist and holding its head down with his left hand. Before it could absorb what was happening, Edward lowered his head too quick for the creature to even perceive and bit into its neck, severing the major artery._

_The skin was a bit tougher than any other prey Edward had fed on before, but it gave and thick, warm, divine blood poured into his mouth. The blood, as with all animals, had a bitter taste to it, but the undercurrent of magic more than made up for it. It was intoxicating. Edward savored every drop he consumed._

_Hearing soft, slow footsteps coming toward him, the Vampire lifted his head, snarling, ready to secure his kill. When he saw his Chosen, however, pride shining in his eyes, his face cleared and Edward was consumed with a feeling of pure pleasure._

_Sliding off his downed prey, he gently pushed it towards his mate – a silent offering. A soft smile blossomed on that achingly beautiful face, before Harry lowered his head and drank from the saber-toothed tiger as well. This satisfied the young immortal being greatly – he had provided for his Chosen, was taking care of him. Complete contentment enveloped Edward, then, as he shared his quarry with his mate._

**A…A**

"Harry," was the first thing that Edward whispered as he came out of his memories. "His name is Harry."

His heart was still racing faster than usual and his breath came in shallow pants, as though he had really just faced off to a great supernatural beast, and yet he paid this no mind. The boy from his most recent memories was the very same boy he had seen in the high school's parking lot all those weeks ago. And now not only did Edward have a name to go with the face, but the Vampire could also understand why he felt so bound to the young man, why he felt that the boy was so significant. He was his Chosen, his true mate. The pride that such a creature was his and his only, the utter love that radiated for and from him, the level of happiness he felt – there was no way such emotions could be pretense.

Edward could see, now, why he never allowed things to progress further with Bella. The reason he was so against getting closer to her, the reason he was so adamant about not changing her, was becoming so very clear to him. He was already bound to another. Such a thing could not be undone; it was ingrained so very deeply within him that, even though he had been unaware of it consciously, he had felt it. It had grounded him, kept him from making mistakes that could never have been taken back or reversed.

Slowly, but surely, the pieces were coming together. The puzzle was far from complete, however. There were still memories to be uncovered, Edward was sure of it. The feelings were there, yes, strong and true. But the how and the why were not, yet.

"Whose name is Harry, Edward?"

Startled, Edward looked up and around him, realizing where he was and who he was with.

Jasper had voiced the question. His voice had been soft and carefully non-confrontational. He was currently very close to Edward, crouching over him, in fact. It was then that the telepath noticed that he was laying flat on the ground. Slowly, Edward raised himself, Jasper moving aside to accommodate him, but still watching him very intently.

"You wouldn't know… it's, uh – I'll explain later," Edward said, shaking the last remnants of his flash away and getting to his feet.

Jasper and Emmett clearly were not satisfied with this answer, but let him be for now. Edward was grateful.

"What happened with the lion?" Edward asked, remembering what he had been doing before being hit by his recollection.

"I had to kill it for you," Emmett said. There was much venom in his voice, but not enough to belie the worry and anxiousness behind it.

"It couldn't have done anything to you, of course, but you dropped and then just… lay there…"

His voice trailed off uncertainly. His body was tight with tension, though; he could not seem to hold still. His eyes were wider than usual and he was breathing in soft huffs. He spoke again before anyone else had the chance, and much more forcefully.

"Have you completely lost your mind, Edward?" he yelled out, the question seeming rather sudden. Being so far out in the wilderness, they had no tourists or hikers to worry about, and so Emmett completely disregarded restraint. "What _was_ that? What the hell is wrong with you?"

The questions were all asked in quick succession; the brawny Vampire could no longer seem to hold it all in. He was pacing in a jagged line, swinging around too quickly before pacing back. He was looking at Edward as though he was unsure exactly what to think – undecided between rage and concern. He breathing grew heavier than necessary, especially considering he didn't really need the air.

Edward, for his part, simply watched for a moment, unsure of what to say. An idea was forming in his head. It was incomplete, he was not thinking about exactly how it would pan out, but he was fairly certain that it might work. He decided to try it – if it failed, he'd just have to think of something else.

"Fight me," he said.

He stood firmly before his sibling, looking him right in the eyes, conveying the utter seriousness of his appeal.

The instruction seemed to take Emmett by surprise. He stopped pacing so suddenly that, if he were human, he would surely have fallen. He eyed Edward incredulously, as though his brother had grown two heads.

"What?" he asked shortly, sounding as if he might have heard wrong and needed clarification.

"Fight me," Edward repeated calmly, as though his request were perfectly reasonable.

"You – you're out of your mind, man," said Emmett, shaking his head in exasperation, doubt lacing his tone. "You are definitely _out of your damn mind_."

Edward could tell, as anyone would have, that his younger brother was losing patience with him, as he had been for a while. Emmett had been distancing himself from his older sibling. His thoughts now, clear to Edward as Emmett was too distracted to attempt keeping them hidden, were exactly as he had guessed earlier. He was irritated by 'big brother's' insistence to waste away, he was vexed that Edward did not even seem to realize that he was taking his family down with him, and he found his own helplessness regarding the matter to be beyond bothersome. All of that, together with what had just occurred, ensured that Emmett was akin to a coil too tightly wound.

Above all else, though, Emmett found himself afraid. Their family – he – had almost lost someone immensely important. He was not taking that well at all, and Edward's blasé attitude had not helped in the least.

"Listen Emmett," Edward said, his tone gentle, non-accusatory. "I understand."

The reminder of the bronze-haired Vampire's ability seemed to annoy Emmett even more.

Before he could say anything, though, Edward raised one hand, eyes pleading his younger sibling to hear him out.

Emmett silently acquiesced.

"I know that I've been… unfair to our family, Em," he began softly, as much introspective as explanatory, "to put it mildly. I know that you're angry at me for the disregard I've shown every one of you. I understand all of it and you are completely justified in your anger. I'm working on it, though, Emmett – you have to believe me on that. I'm… things are different now; I'm changed, or changing. I need us to get past _this_, though, this rift that's opened up between us. I have no desire to lose any of my family, Em – especially not due to my own thoughtlessness. So please – Goliath – help me out here. A heart-to-heart just isn't going to suffice, not with us. You know that. Please let's work this out – fight me?"

More than anything else, it seemed that the use of his nickname for Emmett got through to him. It had been so long since Edward had used it, and to utter it now… it felt like exploitation. Being manipulated was the last straw for Emmett.

With a great roar that would have made any man cower, the huge Vampire charged. Edward adjusted his stance to be able to take the brunt of it, but other than that made no move.

Jasper, for his part, remained completely silent and out of the way. No doubt the strategist had already figured out exactly what Edward was attempting to accomplish. His unspoken consent of this plan strengthened Edward's resolve – this could definitely work.

The sound of the two Vampires' bodies crashing together was like a giant thunder clap. Edward let out a slight grunt as both he and Emmett went sprawling on the ground, sliding a good few meters before coming to a stop, a deep and long groove left in the earth in their wake.

Emmett was back on his feet in a flash, dragging Edward up with him by the collar. Still holding on, he swung in a wide arc before letting go of Edward, effectively ensuring that he flew through the air at an intense velocity before his back smashed into a tall fir tree. The bronze-haired Vampire had to roll quickly out of the way as the tree came crashing down. A great cloud of dust and needles from the tree itself billowed up at the impact, shimmering in the air for a long while. The fight was far from over, though.

Edward saw as Emmett's huge fist came at him through the still-falling debris. He blocked and side-stepped in quick succession; and his own fist found its mark in the larger Vampire's side. Jumping aside, Emmett grunted before kicking out as Edward, once again, side-stepped.

Edward had decided, upon voicing his request, that he would keep the fight fair by not reading Emmett's mind. Instead, he focused on the mind of a nearby animal. Despite that, however, Edward was still the better fighter of the two, even without the brute strength that his brother possessed; he was faster and much more experienced.  
More often than not, though, he let Emmett get his shots in. He was doing this for his brother after all – Emmett was the one who needed to release all of his pent up aggravation.

And Emmett was taking full advantage.

At present, he had his older sibling in a headlock, his fist driving into Edward's side and gut mercilessly. After a while Edward was able to catch Emmett's wrist, mid-punch, and twist himself around, effectively breaking the brawny Vampire's hold on him. He punched up, into Emmett's sternum, and then kicked out before he had a chance to retaliate – successfully putting some distance between them.

When he next looked at him, Emmett was shaking his head, as though to clear it, and getting ready to attack once more. There was a distinct difference in his demeanor now, however. A spark was returning to his eyes; the very spark that had been dimmed for a while now, and that Edward had kept hoping to see for as long. His younger brother's boisterous personality was returning. There was humor back in his gaze now and a broad, mischievous grin lit up his features.

That did not stop him from rushing Edward again, though, the telepath thought in amusement.

And as they went at it once again, the change was almost tangible. The fight had taken a definite, more playful, turn. Instead of all out brawling, the brothers were now sparring – testing their skills with and against one another, trying to get one over the other, just like they used to.

With a great and final crash, Edward landed on the ground, on his back, and simply remained where he was, staring up at the steely gray sky that was visible in the clearing they currently occupied. He was breathing as though he had just completed a rigorous workout, although more from exhilaration than exertion. The plan may have been to get through to Emmett, but it seemed to Edward that it had worked wonders for him as well.

Emmett dropped to the ground next to his sibling, his breathing just as labored, but the positive change in him was amazing. The tension and stress were visibly removed from him, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders; the glint is his gaze was apparent once again. He simply seemed much lighter. Edward was pleased – not least of all because his half thought out idea actually helped.

For a while the three Vampires, as they were soon joined by Jasper, merely enjoyed the companionable silence that settled around them.

"Why weren't you countering all my hits like you normally do?" Emmett asked finally, breaking the quiet. His voice was, expectedly, much calmer now, without even a hint of antagonism. "Trying to give me an easy win?"

He narrowed his eyes at Edward – doubtless he'd demand a rematch were that the case.

"I wasn't focusing on your thoughts, as I usually do," Edward responded, lifting himself into a sitting position, draping his arms over his knees casually.

"What were you focusing on?" Jasper enquired curiously.

"An animal in the woods nearby," Edward answered, amusing Emmett if his bark of laughter was anything to go by. "A deer, if I had to guess."

Edward allowed himself a chuckle as well.

"We needed to be, as much as possible, on even footing," Edward continued after a bit, clarifying his reasons. "It would have defeated the purpose, otherwise. And I couldn't very well focus on Jazz; he would have been contemplating the fight tactically, I'm sure."

Jasper let out a soft snort at that – apparently that is exactly what he had been doing.

Another comfortable silence descended before, once again, being interrupted by Emmett.

"I felt let down, man," he admitted quietly – an important indicator of just how serious he was, as he was well known for his booming voice. "I didn't know how to react to you anymore."

Edward let out a long breath. They were talking; this is precisely what was needed.

"I know," Edward began, just as softly. "At least, I do now."

"Took you long enough to realize," another familiar voice suddenly cut in.

Looking up, the three brothers learned they were no longer alone. Rosalie and Alice had stepped out of the woods surrounding them, hurriedly making their way towards the trio. Gingerly, the two women set themselves by their respective mates and husbands – Rosalie next to Emmett, Alice placing herself in Jasper's lap. Naturally, it had been Rosalie who voiced her opinion. While her words could have been snide, her tone was not. Edward smiled, almost sheepishly, at her.

"For what it's worth, I do apologize for requiring such drastic events to open my eyes," he said to the group at large.

Rosalie only raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow, but there was happiness in her eyes – more than Edward had hoped for. She had been the one, after all, who was most against his relationship with Bella from the very beginning – and she had not been shy in voicing her dislike. Edward could see now that it was not mere jealousy that had driven Rosalie's judgment. By lashing out at him, and indeed by being cold towards Bella, she had been attempting to protect the family in her own way. In this manner, she had shown remarkable foresight.

The affect on Emmett had only served to exacerbate her feelings. The distress of one's mate will only ever lead to one's own distress, along with the need to eliminate any cause of the misery.

Alice, on the other hand, smiled brilliantly at Edward, having always easily understood and accepted him. Of course, it did help that his actions had not affected Jasper in the way that they had Emmett.

The pixie-like Vampire was forever chirpy and bouncy and the ex-soldier always calm and collected. Thus, due to Jasper's pragmatic outlook and Alice's never-ending optimism, they were able to keep their faith in Edward strong. This had aided the telepath greatly where his family was concerned.

Alice and Jasper, regardless of being the two adopted members of the Cullen family, were the anchors of the unit – apart from Edward, who would always be fundamental as the 'first-born son'. While he had been in his disordered state, however, they had kept each other grounded and, as much a side-effect as intent, had stabilized the family. If not for their firmly positive views regarding Edward and his plight, their solid unit may well have fallen apart.

Feeling momentarily speechless because of his indebtedness to his siblings, Edward dearly hoped no long-winded dialogue was required of him.

Alice came to his aid in this regard.

"We were on our way to hunt, deciding to catch up with you three," she said, choosing to explain their sudden appearance. "We weren't too far out when I got a Vision – you two, fighting."

She gestured between Edward and Emmett, mock-accusingly. The grin never left her face, though.

"By the time we got to you, however, it didn't look anything like severe combat – more like pseudo wrestling!"

"Yeah, I started to feel bad for the little guy," Emmett said graciously, teasing Edward.

Said Vampire simply scoffed at that. "This _'little guy'_ would have beaten you with his eyes closed, and without even needing to read your mind!"

"You wish, bro!" the large Vampire boasted. "All I had to do was sit on you! One light and fluffy pancake Edward, instantly."

They all laughed at that, and Edward basked in the blithe atmosphere. He was unaware of just how much he had missed this, his family.

"You would have had to catch me first, Em," he responded confidently. "And you would not have."

"You can only run for so long, Eddie-boy."

When it came to banter, Emmett absolutely had to have the last word; for now, Edward let him.

"Since we all still need to feed, we should get to it and then head back," said Jasper, ever-sensible.

"Wait, you haven't hunted yet?" Rosalie inquired incredulously. "Have you two been fighting the whole time you've been out here?"

This question caused Emmett and Jasper to look at Edward, unsure of what to say. This, in turn, caused the female Vampires to focus on him as well.

"I know things are unclear right now," Edward said, unable and unwilling to avoid the stares leveled at him. "Alice and Rose, especially, won't know what I'm talking about, but, I promise you, I will explain everything I can when we get back home, all right? This should be done with the whole family present."

They gazed at Edward for a short moment longer before accepting his word.

"Okay, so how about some grizzlies?" Emmett boomed out, ridding any worry that may have settled.

Rosalie just shook her head at her mate, though the adoration was obvious in her eyes.

The others raced off, but before Edward could follow, Emmett spoke – his words finally reducing the fracture in their bond as brothers to naught.

"Hey, Ed – apology accepted, bro. You're officially forgiven."

A full-fledged smile blossomed on Edward's face. He nodded gratefully; he was not losing his family. He had always known he would not, but this only cemented that belief, buoying him.

"Thank you… Goliath." He added the nickname as though affirming the restored solidarity between them.

Emmett smirked and threw his arm around Edward's shoulder, jostling him playfully.

"Food, man!" he exclaimed then. "I need to feed!" Edward could only laugh – he had his not-so-little brother back.

**A…A**

Many miles away from that wooded wilderness, in an extravagant yet dark room, stood a being, once a man, he supposed, with no family to speak of. He did have one a long time ago, a family, but he did not like to dwell on such things. They always succeeded in making him disheartened, which in turn made him dangerously angry. He was not a being who afforded any weakness, not to those who served him and, most certainly, not to himself. So he turned his thoughts to things much happier – well, happier in his perspective at least. Not that those who were displeased by him and his plans mattered really; they did not live long enough to wallow much in any case. It was good to be in power.

Most especially now that his many plots were flourishing, he reflected. Soon… soon he would be able to bring them all together and see his ultimate plan achieved. A wicked smile spread across his face. Victory was so very close he could taste it. It would not be long now before he would truly savor it.

He stared out at the stunning view of a rather grand city, unseeingly, as he contemplated all of this. He called on thoughts of a time none knew of; a time of greatness and rapture, but that was lost now. However, it was also a time which, if he had his way (as he fully intended), would dawn once more.

A sudden knock, sounding much louder than it actually was in the complete silence of his private quarters, interrupted his musings. The man grimaced, displeased – he did not appreciate disruptions, and should this one prove to be worthless he would take great pleasure in reminding the subordinate of that very fact.

"Enter," he commanded, none too kindly.

"Miss Ginevra Weasley, Master," said the timid voice of one or other of the minions. He was not the kind of individual who indulged in personalizing his relations with those he deemed insignificant. Distractions were many without adding to them, after all.

The minion retreated, showing a surprising amount of intelligence in choosing not to remain for too long. No matter – the man's main interest lay in the being he had brought to see him, in any case. His eyes twinkled, almost merrily, as he gazed upon the statuesque figure before him.

She truly was quite the beauty, if one were so inclined as to notice such things. She had almond shaped crimson eyes, soft feminine features and full cherry red lips. Standing at a slight five feet three inches, she was petite yet curvy in just the right ways. Her flowing red hair, much darker than his own ginger mane, reached the middle of her back and seemed to capture the light in a most intriguing way. A pity he could not find it in himself to appreciate any of this.

She stood in front of him, now, unnaturally motionless, her gaze deliberately not focused directly at him (as he expected of all those who served him, unless of course he specifically wished otherwise) and her features betraying nothing at all.

"Ginny Weasley," he said, mock-jovial, as he made his way towards her. "How I have waited for your very arrival! As a matter of fact, I have been growing rather impatient – what do you have to say to that?"

"My apologies, Master," was Ginny's response, her tone emotionless as the rest of her, though suitably submissive. "I shall make no excuses."

"That is exactly what I like to hear, my dear," the being responded with a decisive nod. "There are no excuses when it comes to my being disappointed. Oh, how I wish the other… _inferiors_, shall we call you? Yes, how I wish the other inferiors were like you."

He paused for a moment, as though truly weighed down by the wrongness that all those in servitude were not quite what they should be. In truth, however, he felt exceptionally delighted, as he often did just by gazing upon Miss Weasley. It had nothing to do with aesthetics, no, but rather the sense of achievement that came to him almost every time he saw her.

Ginny was one of those few who had been particularly difficult and rebellious previously. The man had experienced great relish in breaking this particular little girl – which was really all she was when compared to someone such as him.

He took some time to study her a bit more, much like an artist appreciating one of his better pieces. He felt his lips twitch ever so slightly at the corners as he noted certain proofs of her deterioration – for she was little more than a mindless machine now. He noted her posture, stiff yet submissive, and her emotionless disposition (emotions were what caused her to be so insubordinate to begin with). Most gratifying to see, however, were her eyes. The very eyes which were once rather vibrant, shining with adventure and defiance, were now utterly lifeless, not a spark remaining. Well, it did serve her right, as far as he was concerned.

Time enough to bask later, he surmised then; they had business to attend to.

"Alas," he therefore said, clapping his hands together and coming out of his own thoughts, breaking his own silence. "What news, dear girl? And it had better be good, yes?"

This last was said in a disturbingly malicious tone, as the being's entire demeanor shifted – going from good-humored grandfather to sadistic dictator in a split second.

"Contact has been made, Master," replied Ginny, her voice unchanging. "The mole is in place; it is confirmed."

"Excellent!" said Master called out, the twinkle returning full force to his gaze. He clapped his hands together again as he chuckled to himself. "Yes, yes, yes… things are progressing exactly as they must. I am pleased, Ginevra – you may congratulate yourself."

Ginny didn't respond; she did not move at all.

"Or… not," said the being, unfazed by this lack of reaction. "No matter. Where is that young Mister Crowley being held again? Let us celebrate by transforming yet another human pawn for our cause, shall we? Is that not a fine idea?"

Silence met his many queries, as he fully expected and, indeed, preferred.

"Yes," he continued, in a tone that would, without exception, chill to the bone. "Yes… it is a fine, fine idea."

**/A\**


	4. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**/A\**

_Someone once told me_

_That you have to choose_

_What you win or lose_

_You can't have everything_

_Don't you take chances_

_You might feel the pain_

_Don't you love in vain_

'_Cause love won't set you free_

_I can't stand by the side_

_And watch this life pass me by_

_So unhappy_

_But safe as could be_

_So what if it hurts me?_

_So what if I break down?_

_So what if this world just throws me off the edge_

_My feet run out of ground?_

_I gotta find my place_

_I wanna hear my sound_

_Don't care about all the pain in front of me_

'_Cause I'm just tryin' to be… Happy_

»Leona Lewis – Happy«

**/A\**

Chapter Three:

Bella was confused.

So thoroughly confused, in fact, that she hardly knew what think, or what to do with herself. She had got back home not long ago, after having spent the entire day at La Push. Jacob had invited her down to spend the day with him before going to a bonfire. Other than the initial discomfort caused by Jake's feelings for her, Bella could not think of any reason not to go, and even that had seemed like a weak excuse to her.

Once her mind had been made up, she had prepared a small lunch for her dad, and had made her way to the Reservation some time around mid-morning. Upon arriving, Bella had found she felt lighter for some reason, more carefree than she had been in a while. Her mood only heightened when she had seen Jacob and, to add to that, a warm feeling had overtaken her body, starting in her chest and spreading outward. She had not spent too much time thinking on that, though, refusing to make things more complicated or even consider anything along those lines.

Thus, with a deep breath she had pushed those half-formed thoughts to the back of her mind, allowed a huge grin to split her face and greeted her best friend with an affectionate hug.

After that, Bella had floated through the day of laughs and playfulness with her shape-shifter friend, some moments with others of the pack joining them. For the most part, the day had been one of much happiness; the only tense moments that had transpired were when they had encountered Leah Clearwater – the only female shifter in the pack. Leah made no secret, ever, of the fact that she did not like Bella, and barely tolerated her. Jacob would always intervene, but that did not stop Bella from wondering what exactly she had done to deserve the hostility – that is, until a particularly venomous comment had been voiced.

"_Jacob doesn't deserve what you put him through; he can do a lot better than you!"_ Leah had stated, practically spitting the words at Bella. At that, she had understood exactly why Leah wasn't impressed with her.

Not only was she upset about Jacob being hurt, but Leah, she knew, had gone through a deep heartache of her own, centering on a love-triangle. She had once dated Sam Uley, the Alpha of the Quileute wolf pack, and for quite a long time. They were very deeply in love, from what she had been told by Jacob. Then Emily, Leah's cousin, had come to visit her once upon a time and her fairytale, as it were, had ended.

Sam imprinted on Emily.

Bella still wasn't entirely clear on the concept of Imprinting, but she understood it to be what happened to a shifter when he or she encountered their soul-mate. All it took was a single look at your mate, but, apparently, there wasn't any way to ignore or reverse an Imprint once it occurred, nor would the shifter even consider such a thing, so devoted did they become. And so the relationship between Leah and Sam had fallen apart. Leah was left to wallow in the hurt and self-pity and Sam… he was now engaged to Emily.

Bella could not begin to fathom what such an experience must feel like, and had in no way felt justified to counter Leah's accusation. Jake, however, had been furious at hearing that comment. At least, she had deduced as much from his facial expressions and his behavior, because, upon hearing what Leah had said, he had started an impressive sounding rant entirely in the Quileute native tongue.

And even though he had seemed to be very hostile while speaking (almost shouting), Bella could not help but think how flowing and beautiful the language sounded – especially spoken by Jacob. Strangely, she had blushed at that thought instantly, and fought to put it behind the walls in her mind so as to not contemplate it.

When he had stopped venting at Leah, Bella had dragged Jake down to the beach, hoping to calm him down. After a long walk, mostly in a comfortable silence, where they had done no more than watch the waves of the ocean, her best friend did eventually relax. Of course, then he had chosen to speak, and Bella was left to wonder if she would not have been better off with a broody Jacob.

"_You know I'm going to wait for you, right?"_ he had asked her softly, while keeping his eyes on the horizon in the distance. Bella, for her part, had been glad for this as she had not been able to keep her eyes off Jake's profile. The words 'so beautiful' had drifted across her mind before she had shaken her head firmly to chase them away. _"I know you have a lot to work through, that you're unsure on a lot of things," _Jake had continued compassionately,_ "but the love I feel for you, Bella… that's not going to go away. You will always be able to count on that, on me. I'll be right here when you're ready."_

Then he had looked at her and Bella had felt her breath catch. His eyes had been so open, so heartbreakingly honest, that for a long moment she had not been able, or willing, to look away. She had swallowed thickly. She had not said anything, though; she had not been able to find the words. She had simply nodded shakily, tearing her eyes away from Jake's gaze – she was sure she had felt herself drowning in it.

Bella closed her eyes and shook her head, dislodging the memories of the day. She went through her bedtime routine, including her evening shower, in something of a trance. It was as if she were lost. She felt as though she didn't know anything anymore, at least nothing concrete. What she needed to do was stop hiding – especially from herself.

Emotions, so very strong, were stirred inside her every time Jacob was involved. Warmth spread within her just at hearing his voice, her chest tightened every time she saw him, just a little at first, but growing more intense with every exchange. In the beginning, Bella had simply assumed that the tightness was due to fear of losing him, and fear for his safety each time he was on patrol. She was not so sure that was all it was anymore. For if that were the case, then why did the very same feeling occur whenever she spied his name on her caller I.D.?

Then there were the moments when she was not with him, yet her mind would drift, of its own accord – perhaps to some or other memory involving him, or to what they'd do the next time she visited, or even to what he may have been up to while she sat and thought about him.

She'd always catch herself in the middle of such thoughts, and guilt would never be far behind. Why was she thinking of Jake when she was dating Edward? Shouldn't she be thinking about her boyfriend more often than her best friend? Had Edward picked up on anything and simply not said so, or was he so involved in his 'soul-searching' that he didn't notice? If he didn't notice anything, was she upset about this? Or indifferent? But if she was indifferent, then what did that say about her feelings for Edward?

Bella was certain she still loved the Vampire, very much. What she was unsure about was if that love was the same, if it was what she had thought it initially was.

More and still more questions were coming to mind as Bella made her way to her bedroom, after her longer than usual shower, but no answers that she could be confident of.

Switching on her light as she closed her door, Bella jumped in shock, her eyes widening almost comically.

"Edward!" she gasped out, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hand went up to her chest as though she could somehow calm the beating. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Edward was standing at her windowsill, still as a marble statue. He had turned to look at her as she entered her room, but had made not a sound so that, once the light was on, it was as if he'd appeared suddenly out of thin air.

A crooked smile formed on his face as he looked at her apologetically.

"I am sorry, Bella," he said softly. "Scaring you was not my intention."

Bella frowned slightly as she nodded her acceptance. Her heart rate was slowing down at least. Something was different, though; Edward's words seem far too formal to her – more so than usual.

"Yeah," she said slowly, still somewhat lost in thought. "Yeah, that's okay. I just wasn't expecting you, that's all. You're back early."

It wasn't a question, but Edward responded regardless.

"Yes, it was not too difficult locating game big enough to sate us."

A semi-uncomfortable silence settled over the two for a few minutes. This, in and of itself, was unusual. Bella was still considering the revelations she'd had that day, but also could not think, for the life of her, what to say. She took the time to simply look at Edward.

He was still stunning to behold, with his fine features, straight nose, semi-full lips and lithe build. As she watched him, Bella's heart clenched for a different reason than when Jake was concerned. A realization suddenly dawned on her.

Beautiful as he was, Edward's was not the face she wanted to wake up to every morning. He wasn't the one she wanted to greet when she got home everyday, or the one she wanted to go to bed with every night; not the one, anymore, that she wanted to spend all her time with. He was not the one she wanted to share all her secrets and dreams with, not the one she wanted to face and beat life's trials with. Edward was not the one she wanted to fight with, or make up with, or… make love to. He simply was not the one. That one, her one was, at this very moment, down at the Reservation.

The intense realization seemed to knock all the wind out her. For one heart-stopping moment her world seemed to tilt, and then everything fell into place. Tears suddenly stung the back of her eyes and Bella blinked rapidly, attempting to stall their flow.

"Bella?" asked Edward, his tone concerned. He took a step towards her, probably to check if she was all right, but Bella held up a shaky hand, stopping him.

"I'm fine," she whispered quickly, not yet looking up at him, before some strength entered her voice. "I'm okay, really."

"You're crying," Edward stated plainly, and in a tone that said he didn't believe her assertions.

"I'm not," Bella denied defiantly, shaking her head. She had to pull herself together; she had to be strong for this. "The tears aren't falling."

"But they're forming," Edward countered, clearly not willing to let this go.

"Just… please just give a minute, Edward," said Bella, almost pleadingly, as she sat on the edge of her bed. She took a few deep breaths and, when she was certain she had the crying impulse under control, only then did she look up, finally meeting Edward's gaze.

He walked over and sat down on the bed as well, facing her, but with a bit of distance between them. After a while of neither of them saying anything, Edward spoke first.

"I came back early for another reason, Bella," he began, evidently choosing his words with great care. "We need to talk."

And though Bella concurred with that, she could not help the chuckle that escaped her lips. Better to get as much amusement as she could while she could.

"Bella?" Edward enquired again, this time confounded.

"I'm sorry," Bella said, calming down a bit, a small, sad smile still lingering. "It's just that there seems to be no other opening phrase when two people are going to have a conversation like this, is there?"

Edward didn't say anything, choosing only to look at Bella with a soft gaze – soft but resolute. Bella nodded.

"You know," she said, managing to remain calm, "I saw this coming. Not in an Alice-Vision kind of way, but… I felt it. We've been changing for a while now. I've been… afraid of what it meant. No changing the inevitable, though."

"Are you still afraid?" Edward asked, watching her carefully, clearly wanting honesty. Now, more than ever, Bella felt the need to be as well.

"I don't think so," she began, looking confidently into the Vampire in the eyes. "I think I've been more afraid of letting go, of what I could be losing if I did. In fact, _that's_ what I'm still afraid of. You and your family… all of you feel like my family now too, Edward. I've integrated myself so deeply in your unit that – I just don't know what would happen if you weren't there anymore. I know – I know that's completely the _wrong_ reason to hang on to a relationship that seems to be coming to its natural end, but… Alice, Esme – they mean so much to me now, too! I don't want to have to let them go. Is that wrong of me?"

While she'd been speaking, Bella had pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping both her arms tightly around them, trying to protect herself from the onslaught of so many intense emotions at once. Tears were now streaming down Bella's cheeks, unchecked; she wouldn't have been able to stop them if she tried.

For his part, Edward had merely allowed Bella to speak, getting all she needed to off her mind. It did say a lot, though, that he did not immediately seek to comfort her physically. When she looked up, however, and found him watching her with worry and hesitation in his eyes, she understood. Edward was waiting for her to let him know that it was ok to hold her; he did not want to make this worse for her than it had to be. With that thought, Bella scooted towards Edward, who opened his arms almost automatically, as she'd known he would.

Instantly, Bella felt slightly calmer, colder, yes, but more composed.

"You're not wrong," he assured her softly, fingers gently brushing through her hair. "Yes, our relationship, at least in the romantic sense, is at its end, but that's not to say that I have ceased caring for you, Bella. I have this feeling that you will always be a part of my life in some sense; I'd have it no other way. I still have this need to protect you. Just because we'd no longer be a couple, does not signal the end of our friendship, at least, and certainly it wouldn't be the end of the relationships you've formed with the others in my family. Alice will always be a great friend of yours, and I have no doubt that she'd seriously consider hurting me if I attempt to sever that friendship – again."

Bella gave him a watery smile at that.

"You'd think making a choice that you know, absolutely, is the right one would be easier," she commented broodingly. Her body shuddered involuntarily then – the cold was becoming uncomfortable now.

Understanding this, Edward gently let go and pulled back Bella's covers, signaling for her to get under them. She did so gratefully.

Edward smiled tenderly down at her. "Right and easy don't often go hand in hand."

He paused then, a frown forming on his ethereal face.

"Edward?" asked Bella. When he didn't respond, she reached out and touched her fingers lightly to his upper arm. "Hey… you okay?"

Edward shook his head lightly and his eyes seemed to focus once more.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just… that distinction, between right and easy… it seems familiar to me…"

"Familiar how?" Bella enquired, curious even in her vulnerable state due to the break up.

"I'm not sure… I think I've heard it somewhere before…" Edward said, still sounding unsure and as if his mind weren't entirely in the present.

"That's not so strange, Edward," Bella said, puzzled.

"No," Edward agreed softly, and then more firmly, "No, it isn't."

Bella narrowed her eyes – something strange was going on here.

"Are you sure everything is all right, Edward?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Bella," was the confident response, though Bella still wasn't entirely convinced. "Change – it just never fails to leave one feeling unsteady for a moment."

Bella swallowed thickly, Edward's words bringing forth the feeling of loss once again. Regardless of how sure she was that this was the right decision, for both her and Edward, she still felt the need to mourn. She would not allow that to happen in Edward's presence, however. This was difficult as it was.

"Speaking of change," Edward said abruptly, all serious again. "You're not… you don't still wish to be a Vampire, do you, Bella?" His tone was tender, but the look he gave her was piercing.

That, while unexpected, was a very good question. For so long Bella had harbored the desire to become a Vampire, to become a part of that world – a world she felt was more her own than the one she was currently a part of. All things considered now, though, Bella found she didn't even need to think on her response – she already had the answer.

"Edward," she said patiently, an affectionate smile on her face. "Becoming a Vampire was never about the immortality, never about the enhanced speed or strength, or even the great beauty. The only reason I ever chose that was because of you. It was to ensure that there was nothing separating us, to ensure that I could go on with you, be with you always. Eternity meant nothing to me, not on its own."

"Bella…" Edward sighed her name, as though trying to think of a way to break things to her gently, but couldn't quite figure out how.

"No, it's okay, Edward," Bella reassured him, though her voice shook. "I know we can't go on like we have been, forcing a relationship that is no more. I just want you to see that, without us being together, I wouldn't want to become a Vampire. I've no reason to change anymore."

Edward nodded and, though he might not have said it, Bella could tell he was relieved by this. A somber smile graced her features, but then a sudden chilling thought struck her.

"Edward!" she breathed, eyes widening slightly. "Edward, the Volturi!"

"Hush, hush, Bella," Edward attempted to sooth her. "The Volturi should not be your concern."

"But they are, Edward," she disagreed forcefully. "They are my concern as well; they're going to come here to check on _me_! Your family will be in danger because of me!"

"Bella, please calm down," Edward implored. "A panic attack would not help anyone in the least."

Bella sent the Vampire a scathing look at this, but decided to heed his advice.

"If the Volturi do decide to come, we'll deal with them then," said Edward firmly, and with full confidence. Bella did not share the feeling.

"What if…" she began hesitantly, but then braved on. "What if I become a Vampire anyway? If that's what it would take to keep your family safe, I-I would."

Even as she said the words, Bella cringed. A very vivid picture of Jacob flashed before her eyes. How would she ever be able to act on her true feelings for her best friend if she were turned? Would she even get the opportunity to? Or would he hate her immediately, regardless of his declarations? If she became a Vampire, Bella knew that any life she could have hoped for, especially with Jake, would become no more than an unfulfilled dream.

"No, Bella," Edward's vehement denial came swiftly, with no room for argument, and it was as if, for once, he could read her mind. "Your life will not, will _never_ be forfeited – especially not merely to make things easier on us!"

Bella wanted to dispute this, purely on principle, but she could not deny the relief she felt at hearing Edward say this. It was selfish, she knew, but she did not want to give up any chance she had with Jacob. She couldn't ever lose him. She remained silent.

"What will you do?" she asked after a moment, not able to hold her concern in.

"Should they pay us a visit, we will attempt to reason with them," Edward replied, his voice collected, as though he believed in what he was saying. Bella did not.

From her one brief encounter with the Vampire rulers, she did not peg them as the compassionate sort. She was certain that if they felt like they were being disobeyed or disrespected, they would retaliate – with violence. Bella didn't even want to think about Jane and her gift of torture.

"If that doesn't work," she asked instead, forcefully putting the image of Edward writhing, his utter agony evident, on the cold stone floor of that building in Volterra out of her mind, "if it comes down to a fight, do you think… would your family manage to…?"

Bella could not bring herself to complete her thoughts – they were far, far too sinister for her.

"We shall do all we can, Bella," Edward placated – or tried to. "We are a large family – we will not go down easily."

_That doesn't mean it won't happen._ The thought was at the front of her mind; she could not bring herself to voice it, though, and so didn't say anything at all.

"Don't think on it," Edward said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair off her forehead and behind her ear. "For now, things are as they should be. We are definitely going in the right direction, and should just keep moving forward."

Bella nodded, taking a deep breath to calm the tension within her.

"You're not going to be staying, are you?" Bella whispered – that way she could keep her voice steady. She could feel the waterworks wanting to start up again. She would not be able to hold back for much longer.

"I think it would be best if I don't," Edward replied, to which Bella nodded, both in acceptance and agreement.

"So, I officially have an ex now," she sniffed, attempting to lighten the situation as much as she could. It didn't work out that great.

"And so do I," was the Vampire's response. He kissed her delicately on her forehead, for the last time she surmised, before making his way back over to the window. "Goodbye, Bella," he whispered, turning to look at her once more. In the next instant, he was gone, her drapes fluttering gently in the breeze.

A soft sob escaped Bella. She turned her face into her pillow, muffling it. More were on the way, she was sure, and she couldn't fight it. One didn't go through all she and Edward had been through together without amassing scars. The hurt rolled over her in waves, her body wracking, her tears soaking her pillow through. She clutched at her sheets, needing something tangible to hold on to lest she lose herself in her sorrow. She tried to be as silent as possible, not wanting to alert her dad, or worry him any more than she had before, but the occasional whimper did escape her lips.

She had known there would be pain. How could there not be? The Vampire had been such a great part of her life, and still felt so significant to her – he had awakened her spirit, got her to feel so deeply, got to live so freely. If not for Edward, Bella would never have felt that she had anywhere in the world she truly belonged. At that thought, she felt her heart crack.

She doubted she would ever not love Edward. He would always hold that special place reserved for one's first love. Painful as this moment was, though, Bella felt certain she would survive it.

Her saving grace: the relationship may have ended, but the ties were not broken. She did not lose her extended family, and she would not have to. She'd still be able to talk to Alice about anything and everything, she'd still be the butt of Emmett's jokes, and she'd still be able to visit Esme.

Then there was her light, her very own personal sun: Jacob. Just thinking about him caused her sobs to slow somewhat, and her heart to calm a bit. And when she awoke the next morning, a sense of peace would settle over her.

All was not lost.

**A…A**

"You broke up!"

Alice's exclamation was the first thing Edward heard as he walked through the front door. He lightly rolled his eyes. Apparently, she had Seen – of course she had Seen. Not much ever got by Alice, so Edward could hardly be surprised.

"We did," he responded calmly, walking into the living room which was currently occupied by his entire family, each member caught up in his or her own activity. Emmett and Rosalie were curled up in front of the television; Carlisle and Jasper were each caught up in a book of their choosing; Esme was working on a new painting. All of them stopped what they were engaged in, however, and gave Edward their undivided attention once he had entered. Alice, it seemed, had taken to pacing the living room, awaiting Edward's arrival.

"But why?" she burst out incredulously, throwing her hands in the air. "You were so good together!"

The Seer seemed to be more frustrated than anything else. Of all in the family, Alice had taken to Bella quickest and most strongly. She had accepted Bella instantly and had gone so far as to form a rather great bond of friendship with her. In fact, Alice would assert that they were sisters in all ways that counted. Be that as it may, Edward knew that the main and most important reason she had done so was because of him, of wanting to ensure his happiness. She had jumped at the hope that Bella could be his mate almost quicker than he himself had.

"We are just not what we initially thought we were, Alice," Edward stated simply, shrugging. "Nor were we ever meant to be."

Alice, who had been about to say something (argumentative, no doubt), stopped short at this last utterance.

After a moment of looking pensive, she spoke once more.

"Is this… because of him?"

Edward sighed almost inaudibly, even to those with vampiric hearing. He had expected this. Ever since he had made his entire family aware of his returning memories, and of the boy he'd seen, not only in the parking lot at school, but at the center of his every recollection as well, they had been unsure of what to think and say. Of course they'd have trouble with what he had told them. Vampires did not lose their memories – ever. They retained every shred of knowledge and experience they acquired. How is it possible that Edward had lost his memories to begin with? Why were they coming back now all of a sudden, and at the most random moments? Edward, too, wanted the very same answers.

His family had been even more thrown when he had revealed that the boy, Harry, was more significant than he could ever have imagined – he was his Chosen.

A common misconception existed regarding mated bonds. Most generally tended to believe that mates are pre-chosen and that once they meet they must be together, by their own volition or not. This was not exactly true.

The soul could be linked to any number of other souls, where some bonds would turn out to be stronger than others. The two beings involved would have to make a conscious and willing decision to be together, to connect on every level and for as long as possible regardless of change and circumstance, in order for the commitment to be valid. That is, only when the consensual choice is made, by both persons, does the magic within them close around them and their bond, sealing and strengthening it beyond any reckoning. Once a union is fully achieved it can never be undone, and, indeed, none would ever wish for such a thing.

On the one hand, this explained to them all fully why Edward had never furthered his relationship with Bella. They understood now why he refused to change her and consummate their union – as any Vampire would naturally want with regard to a mate. Edward was already joined.

On the other hand, what on earth could possibly cause a bonded Vampire to simply _forget_ his Chosen, one of, if not the most important being in his life?

Edward closed his eyes briefly, clearing his mind of the thoughts circling throughout the room. He did not have the answers to any of these very valid questions. To think on them would only aggravate him further. Instead, he chose to respond to his sister's initial query.

"Harry, Alice," he intoned patiently. "His name is Harry. And, to answer your question, yes. Yes, it does have to do with him, but not solely."

Alice merely continued to watch Edward, her gaze questioning – more than anything, she just wanted to understand, as they all did, so they could be sure that this was what he truly wanted and needed. They required reassurance that Edward's ultimate happiness was not at stake. He was greatly warmed by this thought, even if a little exasperated by the over-protectiveness.

"Mine and Bella's relationship has been… changing for quite a while now," he ensured firmly. While the Cullen heir may have had time to realize and adjust to this fact, his family had not; he had to understand that. "Not deteriorate, as such, but simply alter – it is not what we had thought it to be, and clearly never was."

"But you did love her, didn't you, darling?" Esme enquired, gaze and tone both tender.

"I did," Edward replied with a nod. "And I still do, in a way. On some level, that neither Bella nor I understand, we formed a bond. It is not anything romantic, I see that now, but it isn't quite friendship either. Whatever it is, though, it is strong – strong enough that I will not simply forget her or disregard her. She is still important to me, just not in the same way."

"I suppose… I can understand that," Alice said slowly, a soft frown marring her elfin features.

"You won't be losing your friend, pixie," said Edward gently, wrapping an arm around his much smaller sister's frame. "Just because we are no longer a couple does not mean that our companionship would come to an end."

Alice leaned into Edward's embrace, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I know," she sighed. "It's just… you were happy again, you know? I thought that maybe this was it – you wouldn't be alone anymore."

"I still am happy, Alice," Edward reassured her, squeezing her shoulders lightly. "I'm rediscovering who I really am now. And I've now been reminded that I never was truly alone. I may not have had a mate, as far as I knew, but I have quite the family."

Alice gave a very un-ladylike snort. "Glad you remembered, Edward."

Esme came forward then, a gentle smile upon her face and love shining in her eyes. Alice detached herself from Edward's side, making way for their petite mother to have a share.

"I, too, was very happy to see you happy with another, Edward," she said, reaching up to hold either side of her son's face in her palms. "I also hoped that something more could come off your relationship with Bella. If you feel, though, that this is the right decision, that this is what's best, then I stand by it. You will only ever have our support, darling."

Edward smiled down at her, marveling at the good fortune that provided him with such a person for a mother, and indeed such family as a whole.

"It is," he stated firmly. "It is the right decision, and both Bella and I agree on that."

He pulled Esme into a tight hug, more for her sake than his – he knew how much she adored such gestures. If he were honest, though, he had to admit that he cherished the familiarity as well.

"Thank you, all of you, for putting up me, though," he said once he let go of his mother. His words and his tone may have been light, but all present knew just how solemn he was, just how sincere.

"Yes, well, I personally put forth the motion for your exile from the family," said Rosalie as haughtily as she could manage, with her back straight and her nose in the air – the very caricature of a snob. "I was, however, out-voted, and so am stuck with you."

Edward chuckled, while Emmett was much more boisterous in his response, guffawing loudly. It was Emmett, though, and that was simply his way.

"Hmm… you could always leave, _dear_ sister, and save yourself the trouble," Edward suggested amicably.

Rosalie sniffed, mock-scornful. "Why should I? There's absolutely no reason for _me_ to have to uproot _my_ entire life."

"Well, then, I'm afraid you are stuck with me… for all eternity. Try not to be too overwhelmed by your fortuity, Rose."

The rest of the family simply watched the banter tossed between the two siblings, basking in the light atmosphere that had settled over them. It seemed far too long that they all enjoyed such buoyancy. Such things always came to an end eventually, however; as was the nature of life.

Once silence ensued and everyone had calmed, a grave issue had to be addressed. Jasper, who had been more subdued than the others the entire time, was the one who spoke up in this regard.

"Bella… she will no longer be turned, will she? I mean to say, it is no longer even an option?"

The question, mostly rhetorical, instantly brought the most pressing problem to the forefront of everyone's mind.

"No," Edward said with certainty. "It is not an option – Bella will not be turned, nor does she wish it anymore. She did suggest it, purely as means of keeping the family safe, but that would not be the right thing to do."

"Yeah, and not least of all because that would breach the treaty we made with the Quileute tribe," added Emmett, for once restrained due to the gravity of the situation.

"A confrontation with the Volturi would be imminent then," concluded Rosalie, her voice even so as not to reveal any of the anxiety she, no doubt, felt.

Esme's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped in alarm. In all probability, the family alone would not be able to withstand such an encounter, not without great losses if at all.

"I would like to say that perhaps we could reason with Aro and his brothers, but I'm afraid that may not be possible," stated Carlisle, his voice controlled regardless of what he may have felt. "Not if what occurred with Edward in Volterra is any indicator."

Along with his returning memories and his true mate, Edward had also regaled his family with the truth of his time in Italy – including his forced almost-exposure.

"I still can't believe they'd do such a thing!" Alice burst out, indignant and affronted once more. Her tiny hands were balled into fists and she looked as though she were ready to rip someone's head off – Aro's most likely. Needless to say, this was not conducive with her pixie-like frame and usual demeanor.

"Believe, dear sister mine," said Rosalie almost casually. "There are very few other single forces as corruptive as power – we are only bearing witness to that fact."

"Indeed," interjected Carlisle pensively. Edward could see, and hear in his thoughts, that his father still found the true nature of the Volturi, of Aro, difficult to comprehend. He had no doubt that Carlisle believed it, and him, but that did not make it any easier to process.

"We must focus on the dangers we face," Jasper said, his disposition as a combatant coming to the fore. This coupled with his loyalty to the family and his need to protect them (and most of all Alice), dictated that he not simply stand by idly, nor retreat in the face of a threat. In any event, this particular threat would never just go away, no matter if they did run.

The ex-soldier stood up from his position on one of the couches and began to pace slightly in the center of the room. Naturally the rest of the family focused their attention on him – he was, after all, the most experienced where warfare was concerned. That's not to say that this is definitely where the confrontation with the Italian coven would lead, but they all felt that it was better to be prepared for every possible event.

"Alice?" he asked simply, after a moment, and the littlest Vampire needed no more clarification as to what her mate was asking.

"I've been watching for any decisions made by the Volturi, Aro specifically," she answered with a shake of her head. "They have made none with regard to coming here, not to check on Bella. I haven't even seen them decide to address the issue in Seattle, yet."

Edward frowned at this. The situation in Seattle was becoming dire. More and more people were being reported missing, or turning up dead – drained of blood. The police were stumped, as the perpetrator, or perpetrators, never left any evidence behind, no trace whatsoever. While the humans were no closer to solving the case, the Cullens were all too aware of what was going on.

There was a rogue Vampire (or Vampires) loose in the city. Normally, the Volturi intervened in such instances, where exposure of their kind was likely, and eliminated the cause of the problem. Sooner or later, the situation in Seattle would spread or Vampires would be discovered – neither consequence welcomed. If the Volturi had not yet made the decision to deal with the rogue, would they at all? This was indeed a troubling revelation.

"There is another problem to compound on the one of the Volturi," said Edward, breaking the confused and uneasy silence that had descended. "Victoria is still at large, and she is not likely to simply give up on her obsession with getting revenge."

Rosalie hissed in vexation. "I had almost forgotten about that bitch!"

"Rosalie!" Esme scolded, much to the amusement of the rest of the family. Esme was not a fan of profanity and it seemed she'd make that know regardless of the circumstances.

"I'm sorry, mother," Rosalie placated, though clearly not putting much into the apology. "But, really, is there any other term more accurate when referring to _her_?"

"Regardless of what she can and can not be referred to as," interrupted Carlisle before any inane arguments could be started, amusing as they may turn out to be. "Edward is right. Victoria is another complication that must be taken into account."

"The wolves are adamant about hunting her," said Edward, wanting to cover all the bases. They needed to consider every angle. "Not only has she invaded their territory a number of times, but they consider the protection of the town and its people their responsibility. Also, they are aware that Victoria is after Bella, specifically, and wish to keep her and Charlie safe."

"I believe we may need to team up with the wolves in that regard," Jasper said quietly, gravely.

"Jasper?" Carlisle enquired sharply. "Why do you believe that would be necessary?"

The strategist took a deep, unneeded breath before voicing his suspicions.

"The situation in Seattle," he began solemnly, "it cannot be a single rogue Vampire – the destruction, the incredible death toll… it's too vast to be the work of a sole Vampire. Not only that, but the carnage, it seems familiar to me. Acutely familiar."

"What are you saying, Jazz?" Alice asked her love softly, almost dreading the answer.

"An army," was the empath's blunt response. "An army of newborns is terrorizing Seattle."

The silence that descended on the room then was very akin to that of a cemetery – so very quiet, yet somehow charged as well.

"And you believe that Victoria is behind the army's creation?" Rosalie asked, intrigued.

"I've been watching for her choices too, though," said Alice, shaking her head in confusion.

"She knows of your gift," said Edward grimly. "Because of Laurent, remember? He was spying on us for her before the wolves took him out."

"And, like Edward had told us after trying to track her for a time, she had been in Texas," Jasper continued the reasoning. "She would have learnt about the Vampire wars fought there, and how they make use of newborns because of their extra strength."

"The question then becomes, do we go to them or do we let them come to us?" said Emmett, always ready for a fight.

"If we go to Seattle," Jasper said, his voice even and calculating, "then we may end the crisis quickly. However, the problem is that we have no idea how many newborns are involved – for the most part, we'd be blind. Having them come to us seems to be the better of the two options. Because we know of them, we can prepare; we'll have the element of surprise and the advantage of knowing the lay of the land far better than they do. The numbers are still a problem, though. We need to know how many."

At this, he looked to Alice. She shook her head sullenly.

"Nothing," she said, rather petulantly. "I have had no Visions regarding anything of the sort."

"That's all right, Alice," Carlisle pacified her. "When you do, we'll work around what you See. Until then, however, we cannot simply allow them to enter this town, to get so close to the civilians. We'd have to meet with the Quileute pack first, appeal to them. We must inform them of our suspicions and put forth the suggestion to band together. I don't see how either of our groups would survive this otherwise."

"I'll give the Black residence a call," volunteered Edward. Due to the Treaty, the Cullens were in possession of their number, it being Ephraim Black who'd negotiated the terms of said Treaty to begin with.

"A meeting is imperative, Edward," said Carlisle once more. "You must impress upon them the gravity of the current circumstances.

Edward merely nodded, already reaching for the telephone. He hoped sincerely that the two factions could, for once, put aside past prejudices and personal inclinations and work together. He feared they'd all perish if they could not.

**A…A**

"Black residence, hello."

Jacob was breathless as he answered the telephone in what could be called the living room of his house. Not only had he just got back from a run with most of the pack, he had also had to rush indoors to ensure he didn't miss the call. If he were honest with himself, this was important because it might be Bella on the other end of the line.

_Get a grip, Black_, he scolded himself lightly. _Leah's right: you do sound like a freakin' crushing schoolgirl_.

Before he could dwell on the fact that he had just agreed with something _Leah Clearwater_, of all people, had said, the person on the other line responded, making him groan internally in dismay.

"Cullen." He said the name like it was a swear word, though mostly for the sake of principle – he had to attempt making things smoother for Bella by being at least tolerable, as she really did not need more stress than she was already under. "Now, how did you guess that all I needed was a call from you to round off my already _fantastic_ weekend?"

There was a pause as Jacob listened to Edward's reply.

"Ugh, don't remind me," he then responded, making a face as though he'd tasted something particularly bitter. "There are no limits to how irritating your gift is. So, any particular reason you called?"

Another pause followed before Jake scoffed in disbelief.

"Meet? With a bunch of Vamps? In a secluded location?" he asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity. "What in the world possessed you to believe such a thing would actually happen, Cullen?"

The shape-shifter was already shaking his head before Edward could even finish his response.

"First off," he retorted, "you sound like an alien from a 'B' grade sci-fi movie with your 'we come in peace' crap. And second, the situation with the red-head is under control."

Jacob rolled his eyes at Edward's answer to that.

"More important than her not being caught, leech," Jacob replied heatedly, balling his free hand into a fist, "is the fact that no more innocents in Forks have died!"

The Cullen countered his statement, naturally, but the Quileute pack-mate was glad to note that he got under the Vampire's skin just as much as Edward got under his skin. The older being was clearly trying to keep his voice even and his irritation under control. Jake could tell this from the unnecessary deep breath he had taken before speaking, and then by the tightness in his tone.

"Seattle?" he interrupted suddenly, confusion taking over for a moment. "What the hell does Seattle have to do with this?"

As Edward replied, it was clear that Jacob was not at all happy with what was being said. In fact, the more Cullen spoke the more pronounced did his scowl become. He let out a great gust of air, his frustration and agitation plain.

"An army?" he burst out once Edward had stopped speaking. "A freakin' army, are you serious?"

There was a pause for a moment then, with neither person saying anything; Jake was too busy processing what he'd just been told, and Edward was, apparently, letting him.

"Fine," Jacob finally agreed, his tone all business. He straightened his back and a cool mask settled over his features – they had their work cut out for them, if what Cullen said was true, and that meant that this was no time for inane bickering. If – no, _when_ – they pulled through, there'd be plenty of time for that then. "I'll speak to Sam and let you know when and where we can meet. It will be soon, so keep you calendar clear."

The call ended not long after that. Jacob felt so tightly wound up, just waiting to spring. He likened this to being battle-ready, as though the fight were going to burst into his small house in the very next instant. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down. He needed to keep himself under strict control – it wouldn't do to break any more of their furniture or his father would have a fit.

"Jacob?"

Speaking of his dad, the Quileute elder rolled his wheelchair into the room. He had probably just got back from visiting whoever struck his fancy that particular day.

"Where you been, old man?" Jake asked, infusing as much good humor into his voice as he could, given the information he'd just been given.

"Being a shifter got to your head, boy?" Billy Black asked gruffly. "I've still got enough juice running through me to paint the town red!"

Jacob laughed loudly at that. "And I would love to see that!"

His dad chuckled lightly as well, but the younger of the two Blacks could see that his banter was not as unrestrained as it usually was.

"What's up, dad?" Jake asked, not even bothering to hide his concern.

Billy sighed, a long and weary sound that immediately had Jacob on alert. His dad may be getting on in years, but he rarely ever showed it – and he was looking more his age now than he ever had.

"Sit with me for a bit, son," his dad eventually said, his tone and face grave. "I need to speak to you about something important."

"Important good… or important bad?" Jake asked slowly, moving to sit down on one of the couches as his dad had requested.

"It's not really a bad thing, Jake," his father began diplomatically, "but I know how you feel about… just listen for now, okay? You'll understand soon enough."

"Okay…" the shifter said, drawing out the word.

He had no idea what his dad was getting at, but he wasn't entirely sure he'd like it.

"The Quileute people have magic running through our veins," Billy began, going slow, it seemed, so as not to leave anything out, and also so Jacob would understand fully. "This is why we were able to take on spirit forms all those eons ago, and it is why some of us are able to shape-shift today."

He paused here so that Jake could acknowledge what was being said. The shifter would have interrupted with some remark about how he knew this already, but thought, wisely, that this was not the time to do so. He simply nodded and his dad continued.

"Now, Taha Aki, the famed past Chief of our tribe, is our, the Blacks, direct ancestor – you know this, of course. His blood runs through our veins and as such we have magic that is far more intense than any other member of the tribe could have. Like every Chief of our tribe has been a Black, so too has every Alpha been."

"Dad…" Jake began wearily. He had decided not to interrupt, but this was something he'd been over with his dad time and time again. Yet here was his father, bringing it up once again.

Jacob, as a Black, was the rightful Alpha of the Quileute wolf-pack, and the next in line to become Chief of the tribe as a whole. The idea of leadership, however, was a very intimidating one to the youngest Black. He hadn't been happy with the whole shifting thing to begin with, but to have the responsibility of being in charge of the pack, and later on the entire tribe – he simply did not have the confidence in himself to succeed in such a significant role. At least, Jacob did not think so. Hence the reason he had allowed Sam to continue as Alpha of the pack (as he had been the first of them to transform). He had known his dad wasn't really happy with that decision, and had told him as much, but he hadn't pushed for Jake to change his mind. Until now, it seemed.

"Jacob," his dad said, his tone patient, raising his hand to stop him from continuing. "Just listen, son. When I am done telling you all you need to know, then you may have you say. For now, listen."

Taking a deep breath, Jake swallowed all he had been about to argue and nodded again. He'd let his father get all he needed to off his chest, but he doubted that he would be changing his mind.

"Right, like I was saying," he continued, finding his flow once again. Jacob could not help but smile at this; not much could deter his old man. "Because being the Alpha is hereditary, there is only ever one True Alpha. And because it is in your blood, Jake, it is not something that you can run from or simply pass on to someone else. There are only two ways in which to genuinely not be Alpha anymore: either you die, or you stop phasing into your wolf form for the rest of you life.

"That is why you find the rest of the pack naturally deferring to you when you make a suggestion or give a command – it is not because you're the 'Beta', as you put it. It is also the reason why you can't ever be tied down by an Alpha command given by Sam. You might feel the weight of it, as he is currently acting as Alpha, but, should you so choose, his command can be denied by you, and only you. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Jacob?"

Jake was having a hard time keeping the scowl off his face. His hands had formed fists, and he was clenching his jaw tightly.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely, the undercurrent of his anger obvious, though he didn't look at his dad as he answered. "You're telling me I have no choice in the matter; I'm being forced to be Alpha."

His dad sighed tiredly. "No, Jake," he denied quietly, placing his hand on his son's arm in silent reassurance – of what, Jake was unclear, though. "What I'm saying is, it doesn't matter if you allow Sam or whoever else to be Alpha forever – ultimately, it makes little difference. You are what you are, Jacob. Instead of running from it, you should embrace it, own it. You will only be making your own life more difficult than it needs to be by denying such a key part of yourself."

"I don't _want_ to be Alpha, dad!" the shifter burst out, getting up quickly to pace in agitation. "I don't think I could do it. What if I do everything wrong? I know nothing about being a leader!"

Billy simply smiled patiently up at his only son. "You won't do everything wrong, Jake. Of course, mistakes can and probably will be made; this is how we learn, son. And you definitely know something about leadership – you display the characteristics on a regular basis, instinctually. Are you not the one liaising with the Cullens regarding this rogue Vampire issue? Are you not the one taking initiative in that regard?"

"Yeah, but Sam makes all the decisions, dad," Jacob denied feebly. "I…"

"Counter and scrutinize those decisions more often than not," his dad finished for him, looking at Jake as though willing him to see reason. "Coming up with different, oftentimes better, means and solutions. Don't you see, son. Just because you are getting someone to okay the route, does not mean you aren't the one driving."

"I just… I don't know if I can do it, dad," Jake said, resigned, falling tiredly onto the couch once more.

"You can't," his dad said, a secretive smile lighting up his features. Jake looked at him sharply at the contradiction. "Not on your own."

"What do you mean, old man?" Jacob asked, shaking his head slightly. He still didn't know if he was ready to be Alpha, but now he found himself more confused than ever.

"I mean, I haven't finished telling you everything you need to know, Jake."

"There's more?" the adolescent asked incredulously.

His father chuckled. "Always, Jake, there is always more. Every heir to the Black line will have help – he will never have to learn and grow into what he is meant to be by himself. You are what we refer to as the Descendant."

His dad said this last part as though he'd just dropped a bomb, but that only puzzled Jacob. For a moment he said nothing, waiting for his father to continue. He didn't.

"Uh…" Jake began slowly, sure he was missing something. "Right… and so are you. We are both descendants of the Black family."

Again his father chuckled, as though he'd just said something amusing.

"You misunderstand me, Jake," he clarified patiently. "We are descendants, yes, but you are _the_ Descendant. You see, every Black heir is born with greater power, and thus with greater responsibility, than any other member of our tribe. This power is then completely available to him should he phase and when he comes of age – which in your case is not too far off."

"Are you telling me," the teenage shape-shifter asked, his voice deliberate, "that I'm going to get… _superpowers_?"

The disbelief coloring his tone was unmistakable.

"Not in the comic book sense, Jacob," his dad laughed. "Simply put, the magic in you would be much stronger. So strong, in fact, that you are going to need some guidance in growing into them, as well as help in becoming True Alpha. This is where your Spirit Quest comes into play."

"Spirit Quest…?" Jake felt as though he were being overloaded with information. He wasn't quite feeling overwhelmed yet, but this was probably because, while his mind felt weighted down, nothing had sunk in.

"Every Descendant, before coming of age, will go on a journey known as the Spirit Quest," his father told him, no doubt relating the information word-for-word as he had heard it from his dad. "That is, you will spend anything between three to seven days, by yourself, on A-Ka-Lat. Now, having never been on the Spirit Quest myself, I am unable to tell you what it entails. I doubt even if I had been on one would I be able to. The Quest is a subjective experience; _your_ journey will cater to what _you_ need. However, I can tell you that it is as much a spiritual journey as a physical one."

"James Island…?" Jake enquired. A-Ka-Lat was the original name for the small island that could be seen from First Beach (the beach that formed part of the Reservation). Indeed, the tribe elders still referred to it as such.

For a long while neither Black spoke. Billy had said all he could factually say, and Jacob… Jacob was merely trying to keep his head above water. This all felt like way too much, way too soon.

Yes, he had realized that he would have to eventually take over as Alpha. Sam had imprinted, he was engaged to be married. Soon he'd want to start a family of his own. Naturally, in order to successfully start and keep up a family life, Sam would not be able to continue as Alpha and would eventually (shortly, from the hints he'd been getting) stop phasing entirely. For a shape-shifter only started aging once more when he no longer shifted – and, of course, Sam would want to grow old with his wife, while watching his kids and grandkids grow.

So, Jacob had understood that his true role would catch up with him, but he had stubbornly avoided thinking of _when_ exactly that would be. Well, it seemed that the time was now. Add to that being _the _Descendant, and a Spirit Quest, and Jake felt himself to be thoroughly unprepared.

"Wait," said the shifter suddenly, stilling all movement, his eyes growing wider with realization. "I'm supposed to spend possibly a week at our _burial ground_?"

**/A\**

**Author's Note: **Couldn't resist the Spidey reference :P Hope you enjoyed. Please leave me a review and let me know your thoughts. Thank you :)


	5. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note:** Thank you so very much to all who are taking the time to read this fic! It means more to me than I could say :)

**/A\**

_Deep in the bosom of the gentle night  
Is when I search for the light  
Pick up my pen and start to write  
I struggle and fight dark forces  
In the clear moonlight  
Without fear... insomnia  
I can't get no sleep  
I used to worry, thought I was goin' mad in a hurry  
Gettin' stress, makin' excess mess in darkness  
No electricity, something's all over me, greasy  
Insomnia, please release me and let me dream of  
Makin' mad love to my girl on the heath  
Tearin' off tights with my teeth  
But there's no release, no peace  
I toss and turn without cease  
Like a curse, open my eyes and rise like yeast…  
I find insight, fundamental movement  
So when it's black, this insomniac_

_Take an original tack  
Keep the beast in my nature under ceaseless attack  
I gets no sleep  
I can't get no sleep_

»Faithless – Insomnia«

**/A\**

Chapter Four:

It truly was a magnificent hall they met in. Crafted by the Supernatural, built by magic, it was a sight of superb splendor.

The cavernous room was circular in shape, its circumference spanning at least thirty feet. The ceiling, very many stories high, was a dome, a magnificent crystal chandelier hanging from its center. This awning itself was about ten feet lengthways, and was as wide as it was tall.

Towards the top of the vast room, breathtaking art in silver, black and gold decorated the wall. The drawings were all depictions of nature - forests full of life, from the innocent and fragile beauties to the fierce and powerful predators. One could see such things as little hummingbirds poised in front of otherworldly flowers, snakes, too large to seem real, slithering over sparkling sand dunes, and ferocious chimeras battling winged dragons for territory.

It was all so perfectly done, every minute detail accounted for, that each drawing seemed to come to life as one viewed it.

Lower down from the artwork, and indeed all the way to the very bottom of the hall, rows upon rows of cushioned chairs were set along the perimeter, not unlike an amphitheatre. Staircases, carpeted in fine black velvet, were set at regular intervals around the room, which allowed the patrons who usually convened here to get to their seats.

The floor at ground level was made from shining white marble, interspersed with delicate designs of cherry blossoms in early spring bloom. All in all, the room was majestic.

On this day, however, it was not the hall that was most interesting.

Harry Potter stood in the very middle of that magnificent marble floor. He adorned simple fitted black slacks and a black long-sleeved tunic-style top, complete with a Chinese collar, which came to his knees. It was tailored to hug his form just enough to be appealing and not nearly enough to be gauche. Elaborate designs, jade in color, decorated the collar, the ends of the sleeves, and all down the center of the front of the top, where the buttons would typically be. The effect, most especially on one as alluring as Harry, was truly resplendent. Adding to his regal appearance, a silver circlet, that looked much like three vines intertwined, was set around his forehead. In the center of the diadem sat a striking jewel, so deeply red that one could easily mistake it for black, if it didn't catch and reflect light the way it did.

Despite the dazzling nature of his appearance, though, Harry was having a difficult time not allowing his nervousness to become noticeable. That did not mean he did not manage it; nothing less than perfect poise was expected of him, most especially in such a setting.

He was, at present, standing before the unparalleled prominence of his world.

Halfway up the many rows of seats and directly in the middle, facing the only entrance into the cavernous hall, six throne-like chairs were situated in two of the rows – one set directly behind the other. They were high-backed, cushioned with rich black velvet and gilded. However, quite clearly, it was not the furniture that inspired feelings of intense wonderment, respect and, oftentimes, fear.

Occupying those thrones was the revered group known, now, as The Triad. This was made up of the pale and ever-beautiful Elders and their respective Chosens – the most ancient and powerful of all beings currently in existence. The three Elders were among the very first borne of their kinds, the three revered 'families' of the Supernatural: Elf, Vampire and Veela.

So far back did their creation occur that they were never given any formal names. Time had moved on, though, and they all soon came to recognize the necessity of being verbally identifiable. As such, they had taken it upon themselves to choose monikers, and to change these as and when the need arose. Presently, they were known as Lord Veda (the Vampire Elder), Lord Sama (the Veela Elder) and Lady Ayur (the Elf Elder).

Together, these three beings (and, to a lesser degree, their Chosens) made up the height of authority in the Supernatural world; they were the wisest, the most experienced and the most connected of all in existence – and this, along with their magnificent magical strength, made them the most formidable.

Being the oldest, they had each felt a responsibility over their respective peoples, which is why they took up the positions as overseers of their kinds. They then came together upon seeing the deterioration of their world at large. Harmony was needed amongst all the Supernatural species. This could only ever be possible if a neutral power existed that would and could tend to and support every being's needs equally, and not just those of their own kind, while still thinking first of the many.

They, therefore, decided to create The Triad, with each Elder holding a position of power equivalent to the others. Due to this, The Triad has, for the most part, continued to be successful in its endeavor for tens of thousands of years, surviving such things as inter-species wars, the concealment of the Supernatural from human beings, and the subsequent near-discoveries of their world that followed over the millennia.

The other, quite vital, reason for their accomplishment is the fact that each Elder symbolizes a fundamental facet of Supernatural life, which serves to ensure fairness. That is, the three key distinctions of their world: the light (represented by the Elf Elder), the dark (represented by the Vampire Elder), and the neutral (represented by the Veela Elder).

These three races have always been seen as the principal beings amongst the preternatural; thusly, it was that the Elders before Harry now were known and accepted as most supreme. Naturally, given this, none could think less of him for feeling such anxiety.

"But in actual fact, your power far surpasses any of our own, young Prince," said Elder Veda in response to the appeal Harry had just put forth to The Triad. His tone was light and even, belying none of his true feelings on the matter at hand, but wanting more to gauge Harry's thoughts and reactions.

The Vampire Elder, sired directly by the very first Vampire of all time, was quite an intimidating individual. He was stunning to behold, yes, but it was a raw, dangerous beauty. Like one's very first sight of a magnificent dragon, he looked, at once, dazzling and so very devastating. He was exceptionally tall, standing easily at about seven feet and two inches. His build complimented his height, though; he was shaped very much like a lumberjack. Broad shoulders and a broad chest lead to relatively slimmer hips and long, no doubt, muscled legs. Sharp, defined features made up his deceptively young face, which was framed by dark chestnut locks that touched his shoulders.

On the whole, Lord Veda carried himself like a warrior, which he was even if he now fought his battles politically, so to speak. His ever calculating eyes were what caught the most attention, though. They were a deep and hypnotic violet color, denoting his great age to anyone who had knowledge of what such a characteristic meant.

The earliest Vampires, upon their turning, acquired eyes of such a color (which turned a solid black when affected by extreme emotions and hunger). This was because, while all Vampires receive extraordinary physical strength and senses, the Vampires of old were much more potent magically, and it was this magic that was visible in their eyes. The New Generation Vampires, on the other hand, were more physically powerful, and so did not reflect the magic.

All things considered, the Elder Vampire's presence was one that none could deny.

"Even if that is indeed true, Lord Veda, power on its own means little," Harry replied levelly, responding to the Elder's assertion.

He kept his posture straight and his head up, meeting the eyes of the Elder unwaveringly; this was exactly how he alone was expected to address The Triad: confident and unfaltering, as an equal and nothing less.

"Besides that," Harry continued, resolute, "if what I have explained to you were to happen, then no individual's power on its own could ever be enough. Without our unity, our combined forces, I fear the fight would be futile."

"You admit, however, that that is merely a possibility, that it may not even come to pass," Elder Sama stated.

The Veela Elder was much more collected in nature, but just as assertive. Aesthetically, none could compare, or even come close, to such otherworldly beauty. So exquisite was he that it was actually eerie.

He, too, was rather tall, though just shy of Lord Veda's great height. Where the Vampire Elder was substantially built, Lord Sama was slender, his muscles toned but sinewy. His features were pointed, though this suited him well, making him all the more refined. His long white-blond hair, coming down to his waist, was currently plaited in the manner befitting an imperial Veela. Again, however, it was the eyes that held one. They were a sharp, metallic ice-blue, so light one could mistake them for being silver-grey. Lord Sama could almost certainly restrain a being simply by looking at him or her, no bonds necessary.

"Yes, as at this point, it is only a possibility," Harry admitted reluctantly, but soldiered on; the outcome, even though it was not certain to happen, was far too grave to allow no consideration. "But there is a very real chance that it could occur. We must seriously take into account every eventuality, no matter how bleak."

Harry could not stress this enough to The Triad and was beginning to feel increasingly agitated.

"I understand fully that guesswork and gut feelings are inadequate, especially when making such severe allegations before The Triad," the young being continued, before any comments could be made. "I also understand that to even think about such a thing is wholly unwelcome. And I confess, most regretfully, that I do not have any solid, substantial evidence to exhibit today. However, this is a prospect that is so real, and the consequences of it would be so detrimental, that I felt I had an obligation to make my fears known to you.

"Even if it is decided that all of our available powers should not be combined, in the event that The Core is reopened, I ask you – nay, I _beg_ of you, please… Please prepare – at the very least, for your own people. This is something that could and would affect us all, impartially; everyone will suffer, but we might lessen the blow significantly if we brace ourselves starting now."

"You would accept, Lord Potter, receiving no sufficient aid should such a future occur, and should it eventually come down to a war?" Lady Ayur asked, her tone serene, but her eyes sharp.

The Elf Elder, oldest of the three, was the perfect blend of intelligence and force. She did not venerate one over the other, instead making use of what was necessary when it was necessary, and in just the right way. This made Lady Ayur most dangerous – not someone one would want as an enemy.

While she was excessively tall (at six-foot, nine) and incredibly regal, just like her companions, unlike the other Elders, what first grabbed one's attention about the Lady was her hair. It was such a deep shade of blood red that one would think it impossible to attain naturally or artificially, as no dye could ever imitate such a color. At present, Elder Ayur wore her hair down, the soft waves coming to the middle of her back. The tips of her extended, pointy ears were just visible, coming through her locks on either side of her head.

Her eyes were next to draw one in. Almond shaped, though slightly slimmer, the pupils were slits, like those of felines. They were a deep, warm brown color, though they had a liquid look about them – like pools of translucent earth. One could not help feeling instantly calmer, instantly soothed, only by gazing into those eyes. Irrespective of who, it seemed, was looking into Lady Ayur's eyes, the reminder of home was intense and immediate.

Helping this was the fact that her facial features were all soft; much like anyone would picture a fey to look. She had high, noble cheekbones, a small and delicate nose, and enticingly full lips.

Elder Ayur might not have the physical presence of Elder Veda or the eerily ethereal beauty of Elder Sama, but her compelling aura – so vivid and so justifiably self-assured – was more than enough for her to achieve and maintain the widespread attention of all.

"It is true that the need for The Triad's help, and to seek agreement for the merging of our available powers, is the foremost reason that I came before you today," stated Harry firmly, not uncomfortable admitting to this – he was aware of the high regard The Triad held for honesty. "Nevertheless, if I can save lives with this warning, then this meeting will have not been meaningless; I will have fulfilled a purpose, regardless of it being not the initial one. Such numerous deaths, for any reason, will always be disagreeable to me. Death due to ignorance, however, is something that I could never tolerate, especially considering that such a thing is avoidable."

A small smile played across Lady Ayur's lips and, though she did not speak, showed that she was pleased with Harry's assertions. It also served to comfort Harry somewhat, lessen his nerves.

"I do hope, Lord Potter, that you have access to much more assistance," Lord Veda said gravely, looking Harry directly in his eyes. "And that you are not solely relying on the combining of our powers to see us through."

"Indeed," added Lord Sama, "even if we were to lend you our strength, young Prince, we would only be able to do so much. A war such as the one you describe would, without question, be great enough to destroy even us, if given the chance to."

"I understand, Lords, Lady," Harry stated solemnly. "I am currently working on gaining aid from many and varied factions. It is not the easiest task, convincing different species that we need to band together, for the benefit of us all, but progression never has been effortless. I have also been to the three great isles. They, too, are not certain to lend their force, but I have convinced them to insulate themselves against the possibility of The Core being reopened, starting now."

"I must congratulate you on your foresight, young Prince," said Elder Ayur, her sincerity apparent. "Should The Core be opened once more, it is imperative that the isles be strictly safeguarded. We thank you for taking the time and making the effort to ensure the beginnings of this. For now, it is much too soon to be making any concrete decisions – prudence must, at all times, be practiced, for our haste may yet undo us. We, too, shall deliberate further on this matter, Lord Potter. No doubt, you are making every effort to gather evidence with regards to your claim; we shall do the same from our end.

"We thank you, also, for coming to us with your concerns and for all the information you have provided us with. These, as well as your warnings, shall all be seriously considered and with the greatest care. We can promise you, though, that our people will start preparing, in earnest, for such an event. Death by ignorance is something that we, too, will not abide by."

Harry dropped into a low bow, bending at the waist, in immense gratitude.

"I thank you, Lady Ayur, Lord Veda, Lord Sama," he said as he rose once more, attempting to convey the sheer magnitude of his appreciation. "I thank you for your time and consideration. I am honored to have met you all."

"We are honored to have met you, young Prince," stated Lord Sama earnestly.

"To be sure, we are," reiterated Lord Veda. "For one as young as yourself to display such strength and, more importantly, strength of character is truly impressive."

"It is only a sad thing that our meeting had to occur due to such a disheartening cause," finished Lady Ayur soberly. "We hope to have time with you in the future, Lord Potter, when the circumstances are not so grave."

"I hope for the same, my Lady," said Harry, a sad smile on his face (the reasons for which were many). "First and foremost, we must secure a future."

**A…A**

"The pack is choosing to stay in their wolf forms," Edward informed the group at large, after discovering this through his telepathy. "They do not trust us enough to meet us as humans."

Currently, the large group, consisting of the Cullen family, the entire Quileute wolf-pack and Bella, were gathered in a large clearing not far from the Hoh region. Usually, this was where the Cullens liked to play the occasional baseball game – it being a big enough field to allow for it, even given the Vampires supernatural speed and strength. Carlisle had suggested this particular turf for their meeting as it was neutral territory. The wolves had acquiesced, but clearly that was as far as their trust (for lack of a better term) went.

Looking upon the scene from afar, one would think that some invisible barrier separated the two groups – the Vampire family from the horse-sized wolves – for a good twelve-foot gap existed between them. Indeed, Bella seemed most aggrieved by this because, Edward knew, she felt tied to both factions. He sympathized with her, but he made the decision not to involve himself; a natural middle ground would be found between his family and the wolves, they had no other option.

In the end, Bella chose to remain with the pack, which she arrived with, though was visibly discontent. Edward was glad for it. They had enough to be dealing with as it was; a squabble due to rivalry would be naught but a waste of time.

"That is fine," Carlisle replied courteously to Edward's clarification. "What matters is that we are meeting. Edward shall translate."

He looked to Edward then, and the bronze-haired Vampire nodded his agreement.

"Right," Carlisle continued. "I am sure by now everyone is aware of, at least, the core issue: Victoria, in all probability, has created an army of newborn Vampires. As she is out to avenge her mate, whose demise was brought about by Edward, her likely course of action would bring her here, to Forks. We do not want this town affected by her and the newborns any more than you do. That is why we propose an alliance, of sorts. My family would not survive unscathed should we attempt to take on Victoria and her army on our own. I am just as certain, however, that the same goes for your pack."

"Sam wishes to know what the difference between us and the newborns is. Why would fighting them not be the same?" Edward asked for the Alpha of the pack, relaying the thoughts as requested.

Jasper stepped up at this point, at a nod from Carlisle. Since he had the most experience with newborns, and indeed with armies of them, he would be best at tackling these questions.

"Newborns are excessively strong," he began, taking on the tone and demeanor of a General addressing his soldiers. "Due to the human blood that flows through their veins initially, newly turned Vampires possess a physical strength that we could never hope to best. Because of this, an army of a mere ten newborns could cause more destruction, wreak more havoc, than any army of a hundred humans or more!"

The wolves seemed to get highly agitated hearing this. They had, it seemed, only ever faced off to older Vampires. It was disconcerting for them to find out that the average Vampire's strength was just that: average.

"There are certain things that must be kept in mind when taking out a newborn Vampire," Jasper continued, ignoring the unease of the wolves, though he doubtless felt it acutely. "Never attack a newborn head on – they will anticipate this as it is all they will know. They minds are too easily distracted to be able to act out strategically, thus they will always go for the easiest kill. Striking a newborn as a group would be most successful in ensuring its downfall; they are stronger, yes, but they will not know how to handle the fight should many assailants come at them at once. The most important thing to remember, however, is that you should _never_ allow a newborn to get its arms around you. It will crush every bone in your body within seconds – you _will not_ survive!"

The wolves absorbed this warning as seriously as they should. From what Edward could see in their minds, not one of shifters of this new pack had ever come across, let alone faced a newborn Vampire. Since they were all now set on being a part of this battle, this would be a hard lesson for them all. Edward hoped, sincerely, that it did not turn out fatal for any of them. He may not hold the highest regard for them, or shape-shifters in general, but that did not mean that he wished to see anyone lost.

"I have prepared a few demonstrations for you," Jasper then declared, gesturing for Emmett to join him in the middle. "These will show you, more clearly than the greatest speeches could describe, not only how to go about attacking a newborn, but also how to protect yourselves against one."

As Jasper and Emmett went through the drills that Jasper had planned, Edward's eyes alighted on Bella, who was with Jacob. She was sitting off to one side, a fair distance away so as to keep safe. Snuggling into the wolf's side, Bella seemed to be doing her best to stave off the biting chill in the air. The temperature in Forks continued to be colder than it should be, but had been so for enough time that it no longer seemed strange. Of course, Bella was the only one who was affected by it, among present company.

Edward was aware, however, that the cold was not the only reason Bella embraced Jacob the way she did. Even though her mind had always been closed off to him, it was rather difficult not to notice the ever-strengthening bond that existed between her and the shape-shifter. Edward found that he was grateful for the deep relationship that was forming between them, but he had to be certain that Bella was really safe with Jacob and not just physically – he still cared about her after all, and did not wish to see her hurt. He had to know that this was more than just some lustful passing fancy for the shape-shifter. And so, the telepath focused almost solely on Jacob's mind, attempting to garner those thoughts that would tell him the truth regarding the wolf's feelings for Bella. That was when he heard the most intriguing thing.

"Why would you possibly not be here for the fight?" Edward enquired curiously. As far as he knew, Jacob was much like Emmett when considering adrenaline-producing (so to speak, in the case of the Vampire) events – ever ready.

The demonstrations had, by then, been drawing to an end, but as soon as Edward voiced his question everyone paid strict attention to either him or Jacob, stopping whatever they had been doing. Bella looked sharply at Edward (which told him plainly that she must know what Jacob meant), before turning to observe Jacob's reaction. The wolf was growling in a semi-threatening way, his thoughts loud and clear: _none of your business, Cullen!_

Sam walked over to where Jacob was now standing, glaring at Edward, while Bella laid a hand gently against his neck, wanting to calm him down. It worked, somewhat. The shape-shifter did stop growling, but his angry stare remained. Before either Edward or Jacob could further their 'discussion', a small disturbance drew their attention.

Looking over to his family, Edward saw everyone surround Alice. Concentrating on her mind, the telepath found himself pulled into the Vision that now gripped her. It wasn't a grand one, nor did it last very long, but it did make a few things clearer for them. Edward decided to let Alice tell it, as she understood her Visions best.

"What is it, Alice?" Jasper asked urgently – not only worried for his mate as he always was when she was pulled into a Vision, but also aware that this could probably be the first one she received regarding the upcoming battle.

"I saw them," Alice gasped, shaking her head slightly to get rid of the last remnants of what she had Seen. "The rogue Vampires – I saw them. They were passing around a red top, one of Bella's, I think. But how…?"

She, along with everyone else, turned to Bella then, who looked stricken.

"I was looking for my red blouse the other day," she whispered, distraught; her eyes were unfocused, as though her mind was elsewhere and she was not really seeing what was in front of her. "I looked everywhere for it, but I couldn't find it. I forgot about it…"

Her voice trailed off, but then her eyes widened in the very next instant.

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed, clearly terrified. "My dad! They were in the house with my dad! What if they –"

She was cut off from that train of thought, though. Jacob nudged her with slightly more force than usual, making her stop before she went into full blown panic. He nuzzled her cheek and neck softly, offering silent comfort. Suddenly, he turned around and sped off into the woods.

"Jake!" Bella cried out, plainly not understanding his departure.

"He'll be back, Bella," Edward reassured her. "He wants to be here as a human right now."

Before Bella could respond, Jacob was already running back to the group, human again as Edward had stated.

Not saying a word, the absurdly tall boy went straight over to her, enfolding her in his arms as though he would shield her from the world itself. Bella seemed to welcome this greatly, as she clung to him.

"It didn't happen that way, Bells," Jacob whispered to her, stroking her hair as he spoke. "Your dad's perfectly all right; we were with him before we left the Res. We'll just have to beef up the security, but I promise you, Bella, we won't let anything happen to him. If we have to pack up for him and move him to La Push, we will."

Bella sniffed, but nodded at every one of Jacob's assurances.

"I didn't realize… I didn't think…" she mumbled into the shifter's chest. "I should have…"

"You couldn't have known, Bella," Alice interrupted firmly, also wanting to comfort her best friend. "None of us did and no one blames you – there's nothing to blame. Now, all we must do is prepare for what's to come."

"And what is to come?" Jacob asked. There was no venom in his tone; his entire demeanor had become entirely business, with no room for pettiness.

"I counted twenty newborns," Alice said gravely. "I recognized none of them."

Esme gasped, while Emmett let out a low growl.

"That number will fluctuate," Jasper stated confidently. "Newborns are volatile; they have no discretion and fight constantly amongst themselves. They may yet lessen their own numbers for us before they actually come here. We cannot count on that absolutely, of course, but it is a probability."

"Sam asks for a time frame," Edward said then, also wanting to know just that.

"I'd say we have about a month," Alice said with a nod. "It's not exact, but I doubt highly that it will be before then."

Edward looked to Jacob then, wondering if that would be enough time for… whatever it was that might cause his non-participation.

The shape-shifter gazed back levelly, but gave no other reaction. Edward sighed quietly. He knew, almost certainly, that things were going to get worse before they got better regarding the truce, at the very least between Jacob and himself. This was not an encouraging precursor.

"No," Edward said then, responding to Sam's mentally spoken question. "No, that isn't all. There's something else you should be aware of. It is not as urgent a problem as the newborn army, but it could still prove to be a serious threat."

The wolves and Jacob all stilled at this declaration, their attention sharp enough to cut.

"Bear in mind," said Carlisle before Edward could say anymore, needing to clarify and emphasize this point, "that this is not an issue that the Quileute tribe has to have any involvement in. This is something that we take responsibility for and you need not risk yourselves. We simply believe that you have a right to know of our concerns, considering the mantle the pack has taken up."

Sam stared intensely at Carlisle for a long while before he nodded once. Turning back to Edward, he projected his question: _what is it that we need to know?_

Taking a deep, though unnecessary, breath, Edward steeled himself as much as he could. These were the details that he would rather not relay to the pack; it would, without question, put strain (that they could do without) on their already tenuous truce.

"There is a coven in Italy, the Volturi, that are the head, of sorts, of all Vampires," began Edward, finding it more difficult to inform the Quileute pack of this than he would have liked. "They have taken it upon themselves to keep watch over our kind, to ensure one thing above all else: that our secrecy is maintained. They would have no human being know of our existence."

The Vampire paused here, more to gather himself than anything else. A glance at Bella told him that she, too, was apprehensive about his telling this tale. There was nothing for it, though; the wolves had to be made aware.

"They now know of Bella."

The pronouncement was met with utter silence. And then the expected explosion followed.

"You selfish, self-centered son of a –"

"Jake!" Bella cut him off, quickly stepping into his path, as he would have rushed Edward right then if he could. "Jake, stop!"

"You caused this!" Jake spat venomously. He was no longer moving towards Edward, but that didn't stop his aggressive tirade. If Edward were honest, he really didn't want him to stop; he felt, genuinely, that he needed to hear what he had to say. "Do you realize that? Do you know what you've _done_? This is _entirely your fault_!"

"That's not fair, Jacob!" Bella exclaimed, stopping Edward from responding. "I was involved, too. This is partly my doing!"

"No, Bella," Jake denied vehemently. "If he hadn't run off to Italy to begin with, you never would have had to run after him! You would still be safe!"

"And Edward might have died!"

"No great loss there!"

"Jacob!"

"You are right, Jacob," Edward interrupted, causing both Jacob and Bella to face him swiftly. Seeing Bella about to disagree, the Vampire raised a hand to stop her. "Please, Bella. There is a lot that I need to take responsibility for, and a lot that I need to atone for. The decision that I took was like the first domino in a line of many. The choice that I made toppled that domino, causing the fall of all the others – I have realized this."

"Edward, no," said Bella firmly, shaking her head. "I made choices, too, that have added to all that happened, and not for the better."

"And they were merely reactions to my actions, Bella," was Edward's calm response. "Do you see that? It's cause and effect – I was the cause and everything else was simply the effects."

Bella was still shaking her head adamantly, though now she was joined by Esme, who had the most heartbreakingly sincere look of non-belief in her eyes. Edward knew that, if he allowed it, all of his carefully constructed walls would have crumbled at that look. He averted his gaze.

Instead he placed his attention back on Jacob, whose anger and disgust were not only acceptable right now, but preferable. Maybe he still retained some of his masochistic tendencies after all.

"Yes," he responded to Jacob's earlier assertions. "I do realize what I have done, and more so than any other. While I cannot undo any of it, I do have the opportunity now to set things right, to make up for it all. But I refuse to waste any of my time _squabbling_ over what cannot be changed."

Then again, maybe Edward did manage to find some balance between who he was and who he wanted to be. Jacob did not seem to appreciate this, however. It did not matter. Edward continued before the shifter could respond.

"Yes, I have caused a lot of pain. I have brought a danger to my family that we might not survive intact, and _you_ – you have _no idea_ what it is like to harbor that kind of shame! To know that you, _single-handedly_, failed your family so severely… You don't know – you have not a _clue_ about what that feels like. So don't, for a moment, think yourself self-important enough to judge me!"

By the end of his outburst, Edward was breathing very heavily. He could hardly believe that he'd lost his normally unyielding composure like that. He did, however, believe in everything he had said and could not find it in himself to regret any of it.

Everyone else – Jacob and the pack, Bella and even his own family – was stunned speechless, it seemed. Not a sound was made as Edward simply stood there, breathing deeply and basking in his revelation.

"I have a long way to go before I can claim redemption," Edward said softly after a while, calming down considerably now that a weight he hadn't even been aware of was lifted. "I know this. But it will be mine. I can say that with just as much certainty."

And suddenly, Carlisle stood behind him, placing his hand upon Edward's shoulder and squeezing gently. The Cullen heir knew this was not really a gesture of comfort (he did not need much comfort), but was a show of support. Allowing the thoughts of his Sire, his father, to wash over him, Edward not only heard but fancied he could feel the unconditional love and pride shining through, embracing him. The sense of peace that this afforded the younger Vampire was something that he almost could not fathom, but clutched close to his heart regardless.

Inhaling slowly, Edward put the feelings away to revere at another time; there were still issues to be dealt with.

"The Volturi," Edward said, in full control once more and getting back to the initial conversation, "is a coven made up of some of the much older Vampires. Their power, however, lies in the immense guard that they have acquired over time. The guard is made up, mostly, of gifted Vampires and the especially prized of these are the twins that head up their reinforcement.

"The only reason we were allowed to leave unscathed at that time was because we had convinced them that Bella would not remain human, and so the secret was safe."

"But Bella is going to remain human," Jacob said, understanding dawning.

"Which is exactly the reason that they pose such a threat," Edward nodded. "They had stated that they would check up on us to ensure we keep up our end of the bargain. We do not know when it will happen, though; we simply thought it prudent to make you aware. Like Carlisle said earlier, there is no need to involve the pack in this particular matter – it is our problem, our conflict to resolve."

Jacob was about to respond, but seemed to catch himself in time. Emotionally vested though he was in this particular problem (as Edward had seen in his thoughts earlier), he did not have the final say, especially where lives could be at stake. He looked to Sam before turning to Edward, knowing that the telepathic Vampire would translate the Alpha's thoughts.

Edward, after listening to Sam for a time, nodded his head in both understanding and acceptance.

"Of course," he next said, replying to Sam before enlightening everyone else. "Sam does not wish to make such a significant decision at this time. He feels that there are, currently, not enough details with which to make a sound choice. Also, he believes that a hasty decision should not be made considering how very much would be in danger. Such great losses, were they to occur, would negate any possible good that could be accomplished.

"He and the rest of the tribe shall carefully consider _all_ that we have told them, however. And the new information does not change their decision to fight against Victoria and the newborn army."

Carlisle stepped forward then.

"Thank you," he said graciously, with a slight bow of his head. "That is more than we ever could have asked for. The alliance we have with the tribe, and more specifically with the pack, is tentative at best for the moment; we are aware. I have much hope for us yet, though."

Sam gazed intently at Carlisle for a short while, gauging his sincerity, before simply dipping his head once in acknowledgement, if not agreement. He then gestured to the rest of the pack, signaling them to take their leave. Turning to Jacob, he gave him a long, hard look, after which he took off after the others, into the woods.

Edward watched them leave. The wolves really were rather fast – quicker than he had ever given them credit for, in any case.

"For what it's worth, Edward," Bella said suddenly, softly, "I believe that you'll get your redemption as well."

Turning to face her, the Vampire noted that she stood by herself; Jacob had probably gone into the cover of trees to shift back into his wolf form. Bella looked a little hesitant, standing with her arms around herself, both to ward off the cold and due to her uncertainty in addressing him with such familiarity.

"It's worth a lot, Bella," Edward affirmed, favoring her with a small smile. "Thank you."

Just as he finished speaking, Jacob trotted over to Bella, standing close so as to provide warmth – at least, Edward was sure that was one of the reasons.

"Black," Edward greeted civilly, nodding in farewell.

The shifter stared back at him for a while; Edward just about decided he was going to get no more than that, but then Jacob repeated his gesture. There were no ill thoughts running through his mind in that moment. Edward smirked; this truce may work out yet.

"See you around, Bella," he said then, nodding to her also.

"Yeah, see you, Edward."

Jacob stooped down then and Bella carefully climbed onto his back. Edward could only watch dubiously.

"Don't look at me like that, Edward," Bella chuckled. "I can handle it now – been riding motorbikes, remember?"

"Ah, yes," he replied with a mock-solemn bob of his head. "You're an adrenaline junkie now."

Bella laughed, the sound lighter than he'd heard in a while. He smiled. Jacob looked at Edward once more, conveying his grudging respect, turned and raced off.

Edward was pleasantly surprised. Aggression leading to reluctant tolerance, he had expected; respect, though, he couldn't have hoped for.

Times were changing.

**A…A**

"That was quite the speech, Edward," Rosalie commented casually, striding up beside him. Though her tone was nonchalant, Edward could see the astute nature of her gaze.

Currently, the Cullen family was making their way back to their home. They had opted to maintain a more leisurely pace, as they made their way through the woods. For one thing, they were certain that they would not come across any passers-by this late into the night and, for another, they could more easily keep up a conversation this way.

"It would seem that the impromptu ones usually are," Edward responded, matching her tone.

Rosalie hummed. After a minute or two more of contemplative silence, she stopped suddenly, touching her hand to Edward's shoulder, getting him to do the same. He faced her calmly, for once unsure of what she would say; she was being careful to not think of it.

"I did not know that I would ever say this to you, Edward," she began slowly, almost timidly (rather uncharacteristic for one as tenacious as Rosalie). "I… I find myself proud of you. Not just of you as a 'big brother', as it were, but of you as a person. I will support and assist you on this journey you've chosen to undertake, in discovering who _you_ are and in gaining redemption, as you put it."

For a few moments, Edward did not react. He was overcome. He had only recently begun to realize how blessed (for there really was no better word for it) that he was; this only served to elevate that knowledge. He blinked, once and then again, still feeling somewhat dazed.

"I – I don't…" It was not often that the Cullen heir found himself tongue-tied, but thought it quite justifiable then. "Thank you…. That seems such an inadequate response, doesn't it?"

"That's all right," said Rosalie with a playful smirk. "Seeing you so flustered more than makes up for it."

Edward rolled his eyes, but chuckled nonetheless.

"I can say," interjected Jasper, his eyes alight with admiration, "with no doubt whatsoever, that we all feel the same, Edward. You might believe that you 'have a long way to go', but you are not going it alone."

Before any more could be said, Esme rushed up to Edward, engulfing him in a hug.

"What makes you think so little of yourself, darling?" she asked, and Edward knew, if she could, she'd be crying.

"I know what I did," he answered in a whisper, more than a little affected by Esme's intense affection. "How I affected everyone else notwithstanding, what I did to _you_, mother, was inexcusable."

"Me?" she asked, baffled. She pulled back a bit so that she could look into Edward's eyes. "What do you…?"

Aside from the fact that he could read her mind, Edward saw the exact moment when comprehension dawned on Esme. Her golden eyes glossed over and her breath caught. She looked as though she would still disagree with him, but Edward knew, as they all did, that there was no denying the brutal truth.

All those many years ago, Esme and Carlisle's paths had crossed due to tragedy. Believing that she no longer had any reason to live, Esme herself had attempted to commit suicide. She would have succeeded, too, if not for the fact that she (after it was assumed that she was dead) was taken to the morgue around where Carlisle worked. The doctor, due to his supernatural abilities, had detected a very weak heartbeat, however. Carlisle had then saved Esme the only way he could, given the extent of her injuries – he had turned her.

The point of significance now, though, was the igniting spark that had set off the blast. After living for years in an abusive marriage, with no support from even her family, Esme had finally managed to run away. She then discovered the first cheer she had known in a very long time – she was pregnant. Overjoyed, Esme had felt that this was the turning point in her life; she could now go on to live a fulfilled life, raising, caring for and loving her child. The happiness was to be short-lived, though.

The child contracted a lung infection and died not long after he was born. Esme had lost her son, the only light she had really ever known. So devastated was she that she had jumped off a cliff.

This was the reason for Edward's deep shame. True, his actions had affected his entire family and, in all probability, Carlisle, as his Sire, had been most profoundly pained by his choice. The emotional wounds that he had reopened in Esme, however, were critical enough to match even his Sire's hurt. She had been on the verge of losing another son. That it was due to his own thoughtlessness, Edward could barely tolerate. It made him ill just to think of it.

None of the others seemed to know what to say to this, but Esme was already pulling herself together. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, somewhat, after the initial shock of the reminder of her past. Esme placed her palms on either side of Edward's face.

"That you have the courage to own up to your responsibilities in this way," she said, her tone and her gaze unwavering, "That you have the courage to face down your turmoil, like you are doing, speaks volumes about the man that you are. I feel so rewarded to be able to call you my son. Just know that I have already forgiven you, Edward. All that's left is for you to forgive yourself."

This time it was Edward who initiated the hug. Inhaling deeply, taking in the scent that was so very _Esme_, he felt his entire perspective shift. The young Vampire finally let go of the last vestiges of his prior belief that Vampires were soulless creatures – for how could one such as Esme, his mother, not have a soul? It was impossible.

"I think it will take some time yet, mother," he said softly, pulling back. "One day, though."

Esme merely smiled in response.

"It's been emotional," said Emmett suddenly, his voice deliberately light to counter the serious atmosphere, "but can we end this day already? Any more tender moments, and I'm going to crack! Seriously! I'll break down right here."

Alice let out a giggle, while Rosalie punched her mate's arm – none too delicately.

"What? I'm being real here," he continued, mock-upset. "And just think about Jasper! The man must be a puddle of goo right now!"

"Thanks, Em," Jasper responded, clapping him on the shoulder. "You always have my back."

"Don't mention it, Jazz," Emmett said, and then clarified. "I mean really, though – _don't_ _mention it_. The last thing we need right now is more chick-flick scenes. The first thing I'm going to do, when we get home, is watch a movie with the most blood and gore I can find. Something's got to be able to balance out the mushiness of this night."

"Stop trying to cover up like that, Em," Edward cut in, a knowing smirk on his face. "You're the softest of us all!"

Emmett would have replied then, doubtless with some practiced comeback, but a noise further on silenced them all. They needed to know what it was, but also couldn't alert whoever (or whatever) it was to their presence. Listening carefully, they managed to hear it again. Focusing their sight, they looked around to identify it.

The Cullens paused as one; they had all spotted the cause. A short distance ahead, in the more sparse cover of trees, closer to a clearing, two girls were walking. They were clearly human and their movements were leisurely, as though they had not a care in the world. Considering the lateness of the hour, the incredible darkness that bore down on all sides, and the vast coverage of the 'animal attacks' that occurred not too long ago this did not seem right. No human should be out wandering the night, utterly vulnerable.

Upon closer inspection, Edward saw that it was Angela Weber and Jessica Stanley, recognizing them from the lunches spent in their company at school. Before he could contemplate further, something occurred that caused his sharp intake of breath.

Another Vampire – a rogue newborn from the looks of it – stepped into the girls' path causing them to stop short. Esme gasped in fear for the girls. What was next said, though, caused confusion so great that all seven of the Cullens stayed frozen in place, as though held by invisible chains.

"_Crap!_" Jessica exclaimed. "A Vampire attack! Now? _Seriously_?"

The world seemed to turn in on itself at that moment. It was as if they had unwittingly stepped into another dimension.

They _knew_? How was it possible that the girls could recognize what stood before them? And why were they not panicking? Hyperventilating? Screaming? Nothing made any sense at all, and Edward felt bound by his bewilderment. It was nothing compared to what followed, however.

The rogue newborn rushed towards the two teenagers with a vicious snarl. Just before he had moved, however, Angela had raised both her hands in front of her, palms facing outwards, and yelled, "_Impedimenta!_"

Before his very eyes, Edward watched, mystified, as the antagonistic Vampire actually slowed down. Instead of moving at supernatural speed, the rogue moved at a very human rate, as if fighting against invisible sludge that was pulling him backwards while he tried to go forward. This gave Angela and Jessica enough time to jump aside, out of the Vampire's way.

"Jess – catch!" Angela yelled to her friend, tossing her an object.

It turned out to be some sort of thick metal bracelet, the kind that could close over the wearer's arm, thus forming a complete circlet.

Jessica caught the bracelet and swung around. While Angela had stopped out of the way, Jessica turned and ran, all out, back towards the Vampire. He was still moving at a sluggish pace, where Vampires were concerned, but was making his way towards what he saw as his next meal, nevertheless.

He swung at Jessica, attempting to give her a right hook, but his movements were jerky and the girl managed to dodge him – expertly, from what Edward could see.

The rogue's speed was beginning to pick up again, though. A slow, sadistic smirk formed on his face as he realized he was getting his natural movement back again.

"Quick, Jessica!" Angela called out urgently, and yet still not terrified, as Edward would expect. "The spell's wearing off! Get the damn thing _on_ him!"

Jessica grunted her response, but wasted no time or energy actually answering her friend. Dodging and ducking a few more blows (that would, no doubt, have broken some bones), the teenaged girl thrust out her right hand, the one holding the bracelet, and managed to close it around the Vampire's upper arm just as he was about to land a punch directly to her chest.

The blow struck true, however, and Edward flinched, thinking that was the end of Jessica. There was no way a human would survive a direct hit to the chest like that – not from a Vampire; their strength was far too profound. In utter shock and disbelief, the bronze-haired Vampire watched as he was once again, beyond all reason, proven wrong.

The air left Jessica in one great gush. She staggered a few steps backwards and not only did she survive, but she managed to remain on her feet as well. The rogue, for his part, was staring at his fist, clearly confounded. Edward felt he could relate.

Getting some of her breath back, as the punch must still have hurt, she looked up at the newborn with a condescending smile on her face.

"Not so tough without your super vampy powers, are you?" she asked tauntingly.

Not giving him a chance to respond, Jessica rushed towards the Vampire once again. She swung her right fist, hitting the rogue squarely in the jaw – and he felt it. His head jerked back at the impact from the punch – the seventeen-year old, human girl's punch! Edward could not, for the life of him, wrap his mind around any of what was happening right in front of him.

It was as though the ground had opened up beneath him and he was still falling, with no end in sight. In the span of mere minutes, everything he had known to be undeniably, inevitably true was being called into question. His world seemed to be twisting inside out; nothing remained rational any more. Even though he was bearing witness to such incredibly implausible events, Edward simply could not believe.

Jessica Stanley, a girl he had never much paid attention to until recently (and then, too, only because of Bella), a girl he had always believed to be something of a superficial airhead, was _fighting a Vampire_! Not only that, but she seemed to be winning!

She appeared to be on the offensive a lot more than the defensive. The majority of her punches and kicks struck true. She was twisting and turning, dodging and diving, striking out like a professional combatant. Clearly she knew her martial art very well.

"Angela!" Jessica called out after a while of fighting the Vampire off by herself. "Any time now!"

"Almost done," the other teenager called back.

His attention now directed to the, thus far, quiet girl, Edward noted that she had been busy with her own task while Jessica held the rogue back. In her hand she held a small leather pouch, to which she was currently adding some kind of dried leaves. If Edward concentrated on it, he could smell many other different herbs already in the bag, as well as substances the smell of which he could not place at all.

As he watched, Angela pulled a small knife, not much larger than a throwing knife, from a sheath attached to the back of her jeans. The entire thing, blade and handle, was made of silver and it seemed to pulse with some inner light, as opposed to merely reflecting it (not that there was much light, presently, for it to reflect). The grip had intricate designs carved into it, much like vines twining around it in a beautiful but indiscernible pattern. The blade, too, had carvings along its sharp edge, but these looked very much like runes; it was beyond Edward to decipher their meanings, however. The weapon truly was an amazing object. Incredible as it was, though, that did not distract from what Angela did with it next.

Holding the pouch and knife in the same hand, her left, the girl slowly but steadily cut a line straight across her right palm. The blood seeped out quickly and Angela hurriedly placed the small open bag underneath her hand, catching all the crimson droplets.

Edward felt his instincts awaken at the intensified smell of fresh blood, but he easily managed to suppress it. He turned briskly to look at his family, specifically Jasper, to check for their reactions to the open wound. They had all tensed, but no one seemed to make any move to attack. Emmett, really only for the sake of caution, had a firm hand on Jasper's shoulder, while Alice stood just in front of him, knowing he wouldn't strike and risk her well-being.

Turning back to look at Angela, Edward saw her running slightly further into the woods, seemingly away from the threat, but also away from her friend. A glance in Jessica's direction told him that she wasn't too bothered about this. Of course, her attention was solely on the Vampire she was still fighting. A problem was arising quickly, however; Edward could see it plainly.

Jessica, for all her skills and unknown advantages over the Vampire, was still very much human. She was fast losing stamina, her body no doubt becoming weaker and weaker due to exhaustion. Somehow, she had managed to slow the newborn down and lessen his strength, but like all Vampires he did not get tired, he could not.

"Angela!" Jessica called out again, this time some desperation creeping into her voice. As her movements slowed, the rogue's confidence grew; more of his strikes were hitting home now – not the majority, yet, but his level of accuracy was on the rise.

Feeling anxious for the sake of Jessica, but not quite to the point where he was reckless enough to intervene, exposing himself and his family, Edward turned and sought out Angela once more. He was not sure what she could possibly do to help her friend, but Jessica must be relying on her for a reason.

Presently, Angela was kneeling on the ground, quite a distance away from the fight itself, in front of a large and aged oak tree. She had, in the time that the Cullen's eyes were turned away, dug a small hole into the ground at the base of the tree, which she was now frantically filling up with soil once more. Though Edward was hard pressed to find the purpose of this, Angela was extremely focused on her task. If he paid attention, he could hear her mumbling rapidly under her breath. It sounded as if she were chanting in Latin.

Before he could think further on what she was saying, let alone why, the young girl apparently completed what she had set out to do. She ran back towards the ongoing fight. When she was only a few feet away, she stopped and drew up her hands, palms facing outward, as she had done before.

More chanting, barely audible, flowed from her lips before her voice suddenly, and steeply, rose in pitch on her last word.

"_Incendio_!" she shouted out, and Edward once again found himself thunderstruck.

Not far in front of her, in the open space between where she stood and where Jessica was struggling with the newborn, a great fire roared into existence. Its white-orange flames seemed over-bright in the darkness that surrounded them, as they reached up to lick the starless sky. The fact that it appeared, literally, out of nowhere, and was burning nothing, made the blaze seem all the more enchanting.

Unconsciously, all the Cullens stepped back simultaneously. Fire, for all its marvelous qualities, was one of the most physically destructive forces known; every species on the planet was afraid of fire, and Vampires were no different. So it was, therefore, that the rogue newborn was also distracted by the sudden, inexplicable appearance of the flames.

Taking full advantage of this, Jessica put forth an extra burst of effort, shoving and kicking the rogue closer to the fire. He realized this and attempted to fight back harder, as well. It was too late, however; he was too close. Swinging around one last time, Jessica gave him a powerful roundhouse kick, effectively sending him straight to his demise.

Angela walked over to Jessica and together they stood, watching the flames do its work while the keening screams of the newborn rent the air. The only known device that could permanently end a Vampire, after all, was fire.

Once done, and the Vampire was reduced to no more than ash, Angela waved her hand, in what looked like a careless gesture, and the flames rescinded, along with any and all evidence of its existence. There was not even the tiniest scorch mark left on the ground.

"How's that for an eventful night?" Jessica said after a while, still out of breath from the earlier activities.

Angela huffed in agreement.

"The attacks in Seattle have been dwindling," she said after a moment of contemplation. "They are probably beginning to prepare for whatever major event they have planned. I guess this one got tired of the regime and decided to rebel by leaving."

"Too bad for him," responded Jessica lightly. Happiness was evident in her voice now, as much for having survived as for having won. "Thanks for the awesome backup, Ang!"

Angela chuckled. "You were pretty incredible all on your own, Jess."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I?" joked Jessica.

Edward, meanwhile, as well as the rest of his family by the looks of it, had recovered somewhat from the initial shock that had kept them rooted to their places, like a spell had been cast on them and was slowly fading. Apprehension was creeping in now, as Edward gleaned from everyone's thoughts. It was this that caused Carlisle to make a critical decision.

The two girls still had not noticed any of the Cullens, but the situation that had now arisen, due to what the family had just witnessed, had to be addressed.

Carlisle stepped forward, Edward moving to stand by his right side in support, and cleared his throat softly. Quiet as the night had now become once again, the teenaged girls easily heard it, though. Whirling around, immediately defensive, they came face to face with the seven Cullens and froze.

No one moved or made any sound for a while, until Jessica spoke.

"Oh, _shit_!"

**/A\**

**Author's Note:** Okay, so a few references to some of my favorites in this chapter – did you spot them? They might not have been too obvious, though. Just to let you guys know, required changes were made to the original version of this chapter; lots of unnecessary things were scrapped. I'm happy with it though. I really hope you have all enjoyed it as well! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I'd be extremely grateful! Thank you :)


	6. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying this story! Please continue doing so… :)

**/A\**

_No more gas in the rig  
__Can't even get it started  
__Nothing heard, nothing said  
__Can't even speak about it  
__All my life on my head  
__Don't want to think about it  
__Feels like I'm going insane…  
__It's the thief in the night  
__To come and grab you  
__It can creep up inside you  
__And consume you  
__A disease of the mind  
__It can control you  
__I feel like a monster  
__Throw on your brake lights  
__We're in the city of wonder  
__Ain't gonna play nice  
__Watch out, you might just go under  
__Better think twice  
__Your train of thought will altered  
__So if you must falter be wise  
__Your mind is in disturbia  
__It's like the darkness is the light  
__Disturbia  
__Am I scaring you tonight?  
__Disturbia  
__Ain't used to what you like  
__Disturbia  
__Disturbia_

»Rihanna – Disturbia«

**/A\**

Chapter Five:

Edward wanted to laugh.

For all that had just taken place, Esme actually looked disapproving at Jessica's slip of profanity and, funnier still, Jessica actually looked contrite. Angela did not seem to have Edward's restraint, however, and did the moment justice by giggling softly. Jessica whipped around to face her.

"I don't see what's funny, Angela!" she hissed at her. "There are seven hungry Vampires in front of us and they're all staring at me like I'm a double cheeseburger special!"

She paused for a moment before adding, "And you're the fries!"

Angela laughed outright at that, and this time Edward had to join her. Jessica turned to face the Cullens once again, shaking her head like a displeased mother.

"We look hungry to you?" Edward asked then, his light and curious tone at odds with the current situation. The situation was so very surreal, though, that any attempt at normalcy was welcome.

"I'm a human," Jessica shrugged. "Vampires will always look hungry to me."

"Fair enough," said Edward, nodding his understanding. "Just to be clear, though: I wouldn't have a double cheeseburger special even if I were human."

"Oh, it's a lot more delicious than it looks," Jessica replied earnestly.

Edward laughed again. "I shall take your word for it."

"Yes, well, I guess you'd have to, right?"

Carlisle cleared his throat again, an amused smile lighting his features.

"That was… quite an impressive display," he said, getting straight to the point.

"Right," said Jessica, drawing out the word and looking for all the world like she'd just been caught stealing out of the cookie jar. "Um… yeah…"

She looked to Angela at this point, clearly not knowing how to proceed. Angela merely rolled her eyes, handing her a cellular phone.

"Call your mom," she said to her, giving her a pointed look.

"Oh, man!" Jessica exclaimed, taking the phone. "She's probably going crazy right now! We broke curfew – you know that, right?"

"For some odd reason," Angela replied, dripping sarcasm, "I think she'll be okay with that."

"Right, right," her friend said, beginning to move a few paces away and already dialing a number. "No need for the mockery, Ang."

"Anyway," said Angela emphatically, turning around to face the Cullen family. "The thing is this is kind of a big secret we've just revealed, however unintentionally. It would be wrong of us to tell you everything now, without first talking to everyone involved."

"You're going to leave us hanging?" Emmett exclaimed suddenly, barely managing to keep his voice at an acceptable level. "Seriously? We just watched you – two seventeen-year old _human_ girls – take down a _newborn Vampire_! And with some _freaky-ass_ mojo, too! You've got to give us _something_!"

Angela laughed openly at the brawny Vampire's, almost whiny, outburst. Emmett was unaffected.

"I'm afraid that's the way it's going to have to be," Angela said, mock-sympathetic. "Jess and I aren't the ones in charge, so to speak. It's really not our call to make. We have to speak with the others first and decide from there. You're just going to have to exercise some patience, big guy."

Carlisle smiled, nodding in acceptance. "And what do you think will be decided after that? Considering that we now know part of your secret, and you obviously know what we are and, by the looks of it, have known for quite some time, some sort of engagement between us is necessary, I believe."

"Yes," Jessica said, having concluded her phone conversation, rejoining Angela. "Too much is now in the open, and too much is at stake, for us to just ignore this – at least, those were my mom's words."

Edward smiled. He had seriously misjudged this girl – both of them.

"Anyways," Jessica continued, "the Council – that's us, by the way, or at least partly – will be having a meeting in three days time. You will be invited to attend that. Once we sort everything out on our side, we'll let you guys know the details – where to meet and when. We'll tell Edward and Alice at school."

She looked at the two Vampires mentioned, wanting their confirmation that this was all right with them. They both nodded.

"Okay," said Angela. "Well, that's it for now then. Introductions and what not will be dealt with at the meeting as well, I guess. We really need to be heading home now. We'll see you at school – or at the meeting."

"Of course," said Carlisle courteously. "We look forward to being enlightened. This seems like it will be quite the tale."

"You have _no_ idea," said Jessica, shaking her head.

"For now," Edward replied with a smile. Angela and Jessica simply smiled back.

And as he watched them depart, Edward could not help but think that life, for all, was about to get remarkably interesting.

**A…A**

"Bella?" called her dad, probably hearing her enter. From the sound of it, he was in the living room. Had he been waiting up for her? That was strange.

"Yeah, dad," she replied, popping her head through the doorway, seeing him on the couch in front of the television. "I'm home. I'm just going to head straight to bed now."

"Wait, Bella," he said, motioning for her to enter the lounge. "Could you sit down for a bit – I need to talk to you about something."

He sounded serious, but Bella was exhausted. She had just got back from the meeting between the Cullens and the wolf-pack, and she was drained, physically and emotionally. Between that and the news Jake had given her about his Spirit Quest, she was ready to drop and stay down for at least a week!

"Can it wait, dad?" she asked, entering the room anyway. "I'm really beat."

"I'm afraid it can't wait, Bells," her dad responded, conveying with his look how serious this was – whatever it might be.

Bella frowned. That did not sound good. She took the seat next to her dad, turning so that she faced him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice concerned. "Did something happen?"

"I wouldn't really use the word 'wrong', Bella," he said, even as his tone said something else. "It is serious, though."

He sighed then, a big gust of air expelled from his lungs. "It's about time I told you the truth, hun."

"The truth…?" Now Bella was really confused. What could this possibly be about?

"Give me a sec, Bells," her dad said wearily. "I finally decided to tell you about this, I just… haven't quite figured out where to start."

The teenager's frown deepened, but she stayed silent as her dad requested.

"I know about Edward," he said after about a minute of quiet, watching her carefully.

Bella felt her heart stop, but then mentally shook her head. Her dad couldn't possibly mean what she thought he did. She shouldn't jump to conclusions.

"What – what do you mean?" she asked instead, her mouth dry.

"I know _what_ he is, Bella," her dad explained evenly. "I know that Edward's a Vampire. I know that the same goes for the rest of his family."

Bella forced herself to laugh. Even to her, it sounded shaky and disingenuous.

"Vampires don't exist, dad," she scoffed, attempting to come off perplexed. She didn't think it worked, though. "There's no such thing."

"We both know that's not true, Bells," he replied calmly, looking at her straight in the eyes.

Bella wanted to look away, but found that she could not. And she knew that the truth was in her eyes, as plain as day to her dad. She never had been very good at hiding things, and she was even worse at lying outright. She remained silent.

"I also know about the boys down at the Reservation," her dad continued, tone as composed as though he were doing no more than commenting on the latest baseball stats.

The young woman's eyes widened.

"How –?" she let slip before she slapped a hand over her mouth. Then she realized that it would be pointless trying to deny anything now. Her dad, obviously, was a lot more clued up than she ever would have guessed. How did he know any of this, though? That was the million-dollar question, she thought to herself.

"I've always known," was the loaded response she got. "I've known long before they even did, that their legends are true."

"H-how do you know any of this, dad?" Bella asked in disbelief. "Why didn't you say anything? How did you find out about the Cullens? Did Billy tell you? Because he's supposed to keep that a secret!"

Her father smiled, though she could not see much humor behind it.

"Well, that's just the heart of the matter, isn't it?" he said, giving her a dry chuckle.

"Dad?" she asked uncertainly.

Bella felt she must be delusional, or dreaming. She felt as though she had opened the front door to her home, but had stepped into the _Twilight Zone_ somehow. All that was missing was the eerie background music.

"Okay," her dad said at last, taking a deep breath, like he was about to plunge headlong into water that he knew was ice-cold. "I'm going to start at the very beginning; try not to interrupt until I'm done, okay, Bells?"

Bella could only nod. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear what her dad was going to tell her, but she listened intently. All traces of her fatigue had, by now, vanished entirely.

"The Swans were one of the very first families to settle in this town, back in the eighteen-hundreds," her dad started, his tone exactly mimicking that of a history lecturer. "Now, by then the belief in beings like Vampires and werewolves had all but died down. Certainly, almost everyone here in America had let go of such '_superstitions_'. Our ancestor at the time, however, had met, and become acquainted, with an Italian woman by the name of Isabella La Gosi. I'm not sure if he met her before or after settling here, in Forks, but I do know that he had a romance with her.

"She had had direct dealings with the supernatural, Vampires specifically, and had, after a time, enlightened Benjamin, our ancestor, to their existence. She had moved to Forks to get away from that painful part of her life. This town, however, seems to attract the supernatural for some reason, and very soon Vampires showed up as well. There were not many of them, but where Vampires are concerned, large numbers are rarely necessary.

"To make a long story short, one of those Vampires was exceptionally attracted to Isabella's blood. He'd taunt and tease her with the idea of her imminent death, so that soon enough she would be afraid to be anywhere alone. This, of course, would intensify at night. Benjamin, deciding he could not simply watch idly, had banded together with a few others that he felt could trust and attempted to protect his love. This is how they discovered the Quileute tribe and the ability that some of them had. Their paths had crossed as they were both trying to deal with the same problem. They had decided to work together and actually managed to do a lot of good.

"Eventually, though, the leader of the Vampire's, the one so drawn to Isabella, caught Benjamin. Naturally, he was very irritated with him. He was human, he should not have been a danger to him, and yet he saw the threat for what it was. He would have killed Benjamin, if not for Isabella. She sacrificed herself to save his life. The Quileute wolves then destroyed the Vampire and his entire coven."

Charlie stopped then, seemingly to gauge Bella's reaction thus far. The teenager, for her part, was breathing in short, shallow breaths. Her mind had been transported to the past as she listened to her father's story. The tale was different to her own, but she found she could also relate to it, and to Isabella, in so many ways. Her eyes were glistening by the time he stopped speaking.

"What happened then?" she asked, her voice raspy from unshed tears. She had a feeling the story wasn't over yet, that that had just been the prelude.

"Benjamin, as he writes it in his journal, was devastated by the loss of Isabella," her father answered softly. "He had been deeply in love with her. Ultimately, though, he realized that he had to move on, to continue the family line if for nothing else. So, he married and had children and grandchildren, and so on. He never stopped loving Isabella, though – your namesake, by the way – and he never forgot the sacrifice that she made for him, for his future. He and those who had stood by him were irrevocably changed, as you'd expect, by the ordeal they'd survived together. You can't really _move on_ from something like that, you know?"

He paused, watching Bella who had nodded unconsciously to the question. Too late, she realized that it was actually rhetorical. She looked away.

"Benjamin decided to honor Isabella's memory," her dad continued, letting her be for now. "And he also decided that the town and its people should not be unprotected. He approached the others who had joined his fight. Since they were aware of what hides in the darkness, they felt a sense of responsibility to those who didn't. He proposed that they start a Council together. They would keep watch over the town, keep their eyes open for any and all supernatural occurrences, and then band together again as and when they needed to. The others agreed and they informed the Quileute tribe of their decision, who then promised their alliance, their help when necessary. And so, the Council of Forks was founded, and continues to this day."

"Continues…?" Bella asked, not really understanding what her dad was telling her.

"Yes, continues," he confirmed. "Five families came together, at Benjamin's suggestion, all those years ago, tied together by experience and knowledge and trust, to form the Council: the Swans, who are the founders, the Webers, the Stanleys, the Yorkies and the Newtons. And we remain together to this day, doing what has been set out for us by our ancestors."

"Webers… Stanleys…" Bella whispered, her eyes widening in realization. "I go to school with all of them. They all… they all know?"

"They do, yes," her dad replied.

"And you are all part of this – this Council? That _you're_ in charge of?"

Her father nodded.

"And you… _fight_ the supernatural?"

"It's not really clear-cut as that, but yes, basically."

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" Bella burst out, standing to her feet in indignation and beginning to pace. "All this time, you've known everything! Were you just going to let me go about my ignorant way forever? Why would you not tell me any of this?"

Charlie sighed. "Initially, the choice was taken out of my hands," he said, his voice tired and sounding so very old. Bella tried (and failed) to not be affected by it. "Your mother left Forks, and she took you with her. Why would I tell you about all of this when you were living away from it, blissfully unaware? How could I do that to you?"

Bella was trying really hard to hold on to her anger, but it was trickling away from her, like water through her fingers. Her dad was right. She hadn't been here for most of her life. She was in sunny Arizona with her mom, away from and unaware of the supernatural, except in myth and horror stories. Until she had decided to live in Forks.

"But then I chose to come here, dad," she said, her tone still slightly disappointed. "And I've been her for a while. Why did you still not tell me? I used to date _Edward_! You could have said something then. You didn't. Why?"

"If there was one reason I was actually relieved that your mom took you away from me," her dad began, voice thick with emotion, "and, really, there was _only_ one reason, it was that you would not have to be a part of such a world. You would be saved from carrying such a heavy responsibility. I know," he continued before Bella could interrupt, "I _know_ that it's your choice, and you should be allowed to make it. But Bells, if you had grown up here, and if I had taught you all this from an early age, would you not have felt obligated? Where would the choice be then?"

The teenaged girl simply stared at her dad for a long time. She noted the lines in his face that she never really had before; she saw the heavy set of jaw and the thin line of his mouth, and the wrinkles by his eyes – before her now was a hard-worn man that she called dad, but had never taken the time to notice. Where was she while her dad was growing old, drifting slowly away? Or had she been the one drifting from him? She then noted the emotion in his chocolate brown eyes, so very like her own, and knew she could not be angry with him. How did one reject the kind of love and worry she saw shining in them for her?

"I wanted to save you, Bella," her dad asserted then, before she could say anything. "I wanted to protect you from this world, from this knowledge. I wanted you to remain my innocent, unaffected little girl. I don't think that was wrong of me. But I am sorry. I am so sorry that I prolonged your ignorance of your very birthright."

Bella moved forward then, hugging her dad tightly. Neither she nor her dad was very touchy-feely, preferring to keep their emotions hidden, but she couldn't help it just then. And she had a feeling that her father didn't mind that much, either.

"You can't save me from everything, dad," she whispered into his shoulder. "And you can't protect me forever."

"Yeah, I know," her dad replied, holding her just as tight. "I can try, though."

Bella chuckled softly, pulling back. She and her dad sat in a silence that was not uncomfortable for a while. The seventeen-year old thought the atmosphere lighter than she could remember it being, as though an invisible barrier had once existed between the two of them and had now been destroyed. She felt closer to her dad than she had ever thought she would. There was no need for the burden that secrets caused now. She was relieved and extremely happy.

"So, why'd you decide to tell me now?" Bella asked, breaking the quiet as her curiosity peaked. "And what do you mean by 'birthright'?"

"You would be my successor, Bella," he dad answered, sounding much more like his old self again. "The next head of the Council of Forks is you, by blood."

"But how could I take over, dad?" the teenager asked, worry creeping into her voice. "I know nothing about leading, let alone heading up a long-standing group, like the Council you belong to! I'm not even a part of the Council!"

"Yet," her dad replied calmly, his belief in her evident. It warmed Bella to hear it, but made her incredibly nervous at the same time – how was she supposed to live up to that? "I will arrange for you to meet the rest of the Council, maybe tomorrow. Together, we will tell you everything you need to know, and answer all the questions we can, that you might have. Once that is done, if you need a bit of time to think things through, we'll give that to you. Bear in mind, though, that it won't be much. Then, you will formally be given the opportunity to be sworn into the Council."

Bella tried to keep her breathing even. On the one hand, this was all so much to take in. Her dad knowing about the supernatural, the kids she hung out at school with being involved… it was all so strange that she almost could not believe it. On the other hand, though, to be a part of something so much larger than her, to play a role in the continuation of a legacy – Bella could not find the words to describe the feelings of awe that would inspire in her. But to lead…

"As for the leading," Charlie continued, as though reading her mind, "that will come to you with time and experience, Bella. No one is expecting you to take over right now. As we move forward, you will learn. The qualities are already so strong in you, honey – we'll just build on that."

Bella nodded, evening her breathing out. "So, why are you telling me all of this now?" she asked again, needing to move away from the talks of taking over her dad's position within the Council. She would try to assimilate that when she had some time to herself later.

"Well," her father replied, "the reason for not wanting you to know was to keep you safe. Now, though, it seems that keeping you in the dark would just prove to be more dangerous than anything."

Bella frowned. "Why? What's happening now that's different?"

"You probably know about Seattle, right?" Charlie asked, seeking confirmation. Bella nodded. "Well, it turns out this problem runs a lot deeper and is a lot more complicated than anyone knows. Other things are going on, all over the world, and everything is somehow linked. I know I'm not making much sense, but the truth is that we don't really know any details. We don't know much of anything, in fact."

"Like a conspiracy?" Bella said, shocked at this news. "A world-wide conspiracy?"

The disbelief was plain to see on her face, she was sure.

"Yeah," he dad agreed, astonishment clear even in his tone – and he was the one telling her this. "Like something out of a sci-fi flick, huh?"

The teenager laughed, but the incredulity was undeniable.

"What exactly do you know about the attacks in Seattle, Bells?" her dad asked then, probably only wanting to be sure of the extent of her knowledge.

The question caused Bella to still, though. She supposed it was her confession time now. She really didn't want to stress her dad out. She knew he was made of stronger fiber (he was a cop, after all), but to reveal just how greatly she was involved… that would be a lot for a father to take.

Taking a deep breath, Bella steeled herself. Her dad had been honest with her and of his own accord – she could do the same.

"I know that rogue Vampires are the cause," she began slowly, carefully watching her dad's reaction. He simply nodded for her to continue. "But I also know who's behind the rogue Vampires."

She paused then, allowing her dad to absorb that. He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Bella took that as her cue to go on.

"It's a Vampire by the name of Victoria. She got the idea to form a newborn Vampire army – which is what was going on in Seattle. She did that so that she could get revenge."

"Victoria is the red-head that the Quileute tribe keeps going on about?" her dad asked, and she was amazed at how business-like her dad could sound, even under the strain of such events. Of course, she had yet to tell him the entire story. She nodded in answer to his query.

"What does she want revenge for?"

And there was the question that she had been dreading. Well, no backing out now.

"That night that I went out with the Cullens, when they invited me to play baseball…?"

"How could I forget?" Charlie scoffed. "You and baseball don't even fit in the same sentence!"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Okay, thanks, dad. Can we stay on point?"

Her dad chuckled, but acquiesced.

"Thank you!" the teenaged girl said, mock-affronted before becoming solemn once again. "Anyway, while we were at the field that the Cullens use to play baseball, another coven showed up. There were three of them: James, the leader, Victoria, his mate, and Laurent. James picked up my scent and couldn't understand what a human was doing with a Vampire coven. He wanted to attack, but the Cullens protected me. Because of that, hunting me became a game to James – he was a tracker, which was his gift. You know about certain Vampires having special abilities?"

Her dad merely nodded, but his head was down so she could not see his expression. She decided to just finish the retelling.

"So, yeah…. We realized that it wouldn't be safe for me here, especially since James could come to the house, find you. I couldn't let you be in danger like that. That's why I told you all that stuff when I left for Phoenix. It killed me, dad, to have to say those things to you – you have to believe me! I mean, I did feel that way initially, but that was before I came to appreciate this town, and love it, and love the close-knit family feel of it. I didn't want to leave you or here. But I had to save you, and you wouldn't have let me go otherwise. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."

The declaration came out in a whisper, and tears were falling unchecked now. Her father pulled her back into his embrace, moving his hand up and down her arm as though to warm her.

"Shhh," he said gently. "I understand now. It's all right. It is good to hear, though, that I wasn't really losing you."

"You weren't," Bella sniffed as she pulled away, pulling herself together again. "You aren't. I promise. Anyway, Esme stayed here, kept watch over you to make sure the other Vampires didn't decide to come here. Edward, Carlisle, Emmett and Rosalie took off in the other direction, trying to lead James away from me, while Alice and Jasper took me to Phoenix. It worked for a while, but then James figured it out and found me in Phoenix. He tricked me into thinking that he had mom, and I fell for it. Edward got to me in time, though. He and the others managed to kill James, and Carlisle patched me up."

"So you didn't really fall down the stairs then?" Charlie asked, attempting to make light of the tense atmosphere. "Because that's quite a believable story."

Bella huffed. "Yeah, I guess it is. Anyway, it's because of James' death that Victoria wants revenge. Laurent isn't a problem, though; he was taken out by the wolves."

For the first time in a long time, Bella felt liberated. She had had no idea the toll it was taking on her, keeping things from her father. She had had no one to talk to about any of what she had been through. The Cullens were there, of course, but they were Vampires and they'd been part of that ordeal. She had needed an objective ear and now she had one.

"I can't honestly say that I'm _pleased_ by any of what you've just told me, Bella," her dad said, meeting her gaze levelly with a grave look in his eyes. "But I am happy that you felt you could be honest with me, that you felt you could trust me with these experiences of yours. Because you can. Nothing in the world could ever make me turn my back on you, Bells. Not a thing can take me away from you. I will fight for you, and I won't stop."

Bella gave him a watery smile. "Ditto to all of that, dad," she said, her voice soft so that she could keep it steady.

"And maybe one day," her dad continued, his gaze was stern, but his lips were twitching, "you could tell me the real story behind the 'I went to California because of a misunderstanding' excuse you fed me, not too long ago."

The teenager's eyes widened slightly, before she laughed, somewhat breathlessly.

"One story at a time, dad," she replied. "I think we've already managed to overdo it for one evening."

Her dad gave her a smile then – big, bright and full of sunshine. She returned it readily, as she realized something.

She was not alone in this. She never had been alone. In that moment, she understood what it really meant to feel invincible.

**A…A**

The Volturi… Victoria… a newborn army… and now humans fighting off and killing Vampires!

The world had gone crazy, Edward was sure of it. He was, at present, pacing around his meadow. This was the one place he felt he could always go when he needed space, when he needed to think. It really wasn't working out all too well for him now, though. There was much too much going on inside his head – and far too many things he could not fathom, did not have enough information on. He doubted very much, however, that he would be able to comprehend much even with the blanks filled in.

On top of all that, there was still his Chosen to consider. Where was he? Why had he not shown himself after that day at school? Did he not wish to see Edward, or be with him? Edward could not stand to consider that last possibility, but he had to. He had to bear in mind that there was a chance that his mate did not want him anymore. Would anyone be able to still desire another after who knows how many _decades_ of separation? Perhaps he had enjoyed being unattached, after living that way for so long. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he hadn't been living alone…. What if he had found another?

Edward shook his forcefully. No! That was one consideration he could not bear to think. This was his _Chosen_ he was referring to. If he, who did not even remember having a mate, could not bear to consummate a relationship with another, then how could the one who (possibly) had retained his memories of a beloved.

And there had been love. The Vampire was more than certain of it. His flashbacks had not only shown him the profound love, endless devotion and absolute trust, but he had felt it all as well. He had felt it so deeply that he thought his very soul had been branded. He would never again be the same. He would, some way, somehow, find Harry. He had to, if only to tell him that much. From there… they would decide. But it would be together.

Edward would have gone on to reflect even more, then. That is, if not for the appalling odor that infiltrated his sacred site at that moment.

The scent hit him like the blast of a heat wave after being in an air-conditioned room. So distinct was the smell, and so very familiar to him, that he could place it instantly: wolf. He knew, without doubt, that it was of the supernatural variety, but there was something fundamentally different about this particular stench. He did not have the time to think any further on it, however. Edward could see it now.

The beast, for there was no better word for it, was huge – much larger than he had known any shape-shifter, or even fully transformed werewolf, to be. Currently, it was standing on its hind legs, making itself as tall as it could be (which was easily over eight feet). Edward thought it looked very much like a werewolf in appearance, but was reluctant to label it as such due to its incredible size.

Every inch of the creature seemed to be made of pure muscle, and it said a lot that he could see this even through all the dark, thick, coarse fur covering its entire body. The lower portions of its legs were quite slim, but the thighs were much larger – which probably made them faster than one would think, considering the power they, doubtless, held. While its hind feet were very like the paws of wolves, though with nails that were longer and looked to be more dangerous, its forearms led to appendages that looked very much like clawed hands. The nails were black, longer and more pointed, however.

The beast's shoulders and chest were rather broad and looked to be very solid, leading to a stout neck. Its snout was slightly longer than he remembered a werewolf's to be, probably to accommodate the much larger and much sharper yellowed teeth. The eyes made Edward pause, though.

They were completely black. There was no differentiation between the pupil and the iris, or even the sclera, just a solid black. They were disconcerting, to say the least. That was not what caused Edward to still, though. The eyes were utterly void of anything humane. Not a single positive emotion could be detected. It was hollow.

This, then, was the definition of a true monster. Edward felt he could have done without the encounter.

Suddenly, a vicious, livid roar rent the night air. Before then, the creature had been sniffing the air, probably wanting something specific. Edward thought it must not have found it. Its angry gaze swiftly found the Vampire; its eyes bore into him as though it were his fault that it did not get what it wanted. Dropping to all fours, it tore over the distance between them, and it was _quick_. The power in its legs made its bounding steps vast, making it all the faster. Deep gashes were being opened in the earth everywhere the beast stepped, and sizeable chunks of soil were being thrown back in its wake. Judging by the way it kept its eyes firmly on the Vampire, its teeth bared and spittle flying from its snarling mouth, its mind was ruled by a single, bloody-minded intent: kill.

Edward crouched defensively, bracing himself for the attack.

The werewolf leaped at him from quite a few feet away; were it successful, it would have locked its jaw around Edward's head. As it were, the Vampire managed to dodge just in time. The monster moved rapidly, however, and had turned and attacked again in a matter of seconds. Something wholly unexpected happened to Edward then.

His mind cleared of all thought and his senses became razor-sharp. His movements, naturally swift, became expert – like that of a trained combatant. Every move that the beast made, Edward was able to anticipate and counter. In turn, every assault initiated by him seemed practiced and was far from random. He knew, somehow, just where to aim to get the most effective results. Every punch, every kick was directed to those points on the creature that, without fail, caused the largest amount of damage. At least, that was how it seemed considering the pain-filled grunts and roars that left the werewolf-like beast. Not many of its own attacks struck true and Edward promptly took on the offensive role.

He did not understand what was happening. As far as he knew, he had never been schooled in combat – not the kind of professional martial art that he was exhibiting, in any case. Nor was he ever taught the mechanics of such a creature, to know exactly where to hit to bring it down. Yet here he was, displaying the kind of skill that he was certain not even Jasper had; here he was, fighting off and beating a beast he couldn't even name. He did know that he felt exhilarated, though. Edward's mind was alert and his body was alive in ways he hadn't thought possible before.

As he was about to deal what he knew, inexplicably, would have been the final blow, the tide turned. Another creature, like the one that now lay broken on the ground, came into view. It was just as large and just as aggressive as the first. Snarling, it also came at Edward – for no reason that he could fathom. Not sparing any thought to it, the Vampire readied himself for another fight.

While immersed in this second battle, which was quick becoming much like the first, yet another werewolf-like monster showed up, immediately joining the fray as well. Things were not as effortless then, and they only got worse from there. Another two beasts barreled out of the woods, heading straight for Edward. Panic was slowly beginning to creep in then, seeping through the Vampire's veins like a slow acting poison – cold and deadly. One monster he could handle, and maybe would have even managed to take on two, but four all coming at him at once? Edward did not favor his odds.

He was taking a lot more hits now, and from every direction. The strikes were not as precise as his own had been, not as flashy, but they were effectual. Every blow seemed to open up a new wound, or worsened an existing one, so that in mere minutes Edward's body was riddled with deep slashes, his blood oozing out slowly and soaking up his clothes – or what was left of them. The odd, dreadfully chilling, thing was that the injuries did not seem to be healing themselves, as they normally would. Open and burning, they weakened Edward the longer they remained. A Vampire survived on blood, after all, and he was losing his with no means to replenish it at that moment.

Edward had never know a Vampire to lose consciousness, but his vision – usually so sharp – was fluctuating even as he attempted to keep the creatures at bay, wavering between blurry and clear like he was moving in and out of a dream. And then he saw something that made heart cease up.

Three more monsters appeared out of the woods. Seven would surely end him. Already, his movements were slowing and taking on a jerky quality. He would never survive the simultaneous attacks of seven beasts at once.

As he thought that, Edward's mind called up the image of Harry. He would never know his Chosen now. He would never again see him, whether in a flashback or in reality; he would never meet him and get to know him – again; he would never be able to tell, to show him that through it all he still wanted him, cherished him, loved him beyond all reason; he would never be able to explain that, even though his mind had forgotten, his soul had remembered. He would not be allowed to make new memories with Harry. A sorrow so deep and so achingly profound gripped Edward then.

He was going to die – fractured and so utterly unfulfilled.

**A…A**

Seventy-three years, four days and sixteen hours.

Could anyone even fathom living in a void for such a long period of time? Although 'living' would be a gross exaggeration, Harry thought to himself; 'existing' would be a better term. That was irrelevant, though. What mattered was the absolute nothingness he found all around him.

To look in every direction and find only bleak emptiness, to exist in a world with no color, no sound, no texture – Harry, himself, wondered at the fact that he had managed it for so very long. If it were not for his purpose, and for the people who needed him, he doubted he would have even got up at all, let alone moved forward.

Yet here he was, seventy-three years, four days and sixteen hours since he had discovered Edward's disappearance. He was still chugging along, like the little engine that could; still doing everything that was expected of him, or even going beyond just so he could fill a bottomless hole; and all the while struggling just to breath.

Harry had always believed in his fight. He had always done all he could for a good and just cause, always fought for those who could not fight for themselves, or taught those who wanted to learn. Never, though, had he imagined that all the meaning, all the value of his purpose, could be bled out so thoroughly. Never had he thought that any wound inflicted upon him could be so great, so deep, as to not even heal.

Then again, Harry reflected, he hadn't exactly counted upon meeting his Chosen – let alone losing him.

"I'm a coward," he said aloud, suddenly. "I've been making all these excuses – I need to be there; I need to oversee that; I need to meet with them…. But the truth is that I'm really just a coward."

"You're not a coward, Harry!" came the immediate, and expected, response. "It's not in your make-up to be a coward. And those weren't excuses, either – you really did need to do all of that."

"I know, Hermione," Harry responded with a huff. "But I was glad for those excuses! I've been using them to hide behind this whole time. For so long, every minute of every day, I've needed Edward, and more each time! I've longed for him, seen him in places I knew he couldn't be, and leaned on the knowledge of his existence like it were a pillar of strength my _entire life_, since meeting him! And now… now that I've finally found him, I can't even find the courage to face him, to speak with him."

"Harry," whispered Hermione, looking as though she were about to burst into tears, regardless of the fact that she could not. "I didn't want to ask, but why didn't you go to him?"

"He doesn't remember me, Hermione!" Harry burst out, anguished and frustrated at once. "I could see it in his eyes, that day at the school. He doesn't know who I am. What could I have possibly have said to him? 'Hi, I know you don't know me, but trust me – I'm your bonded Chosen, want to talk?' That would have worked out splendidly!"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, pulling him into a short, but firm hug. "I don't know how, and I don't know when, but you _will_ get him back again. I just know you will. Because if there's one person – no, listen to me, Harry!"

She held his chin in place as she gave that last command – for Harry had rolled his eyes then, and had attempted to look away.

"Listen," she said again, quite firmly. "If there's one person, in the entire world, that deserves happiness, that deserves love, it's _you_, Harry. It's you."

Harry stared back into Hermione's warm brown eyes, seeing sincerity than none could deny. He pulled back, looking away. He did not want to hope – hope would crush him, should he be disappointed.

"Harry," Hermione began, no doubt about to lecture him as only she could. She never got to, though.

Harry suddenly whipped his head around, focusing his senses outward, concentrating completely.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "What is it?"

"Lycans," Harry breathed, his eyes widening slightly.

"What? Here? At the house?" Hermione's voice was frantic now, looking in every direction as though to spot the beasts lurking in the corners.

"No, here, in the town," Harry clarified, his senses still far off. "They're attacking someone... They're attacking…."

He paused before uttering one syllable, "No!" firmly, as though giving an order, his eyes hardening and his fists clenching, before he was gone, Hermione calling after him. He did not stop, though.

He flew out of the house so fast that he thought an after-image of himself must have remained behind.

Harry could not remember his heart ever beating so fast in his entire life. Not even when he had faced off against Voldemort did he feel such acute terror, nor did his being thrum with such a single-minded purpose. His body was trembling as if he had high voltage flowing through him; his lungs felt as if they were constricting, inhibiting his air intake. His breath was coming out in short, labored pants. His mind was racing, though.

How many were attacking him? Had they got to him already? Was this a random attack? Was he hurt? How bad were his injuries? Were they extensive enough to kill him? Would he make it there in time? What if he didn't?

No! Harry could not think like that; he would not allow himself to. He _would_ get to Edward on time. It _wasn't_ too late. He _would_ save him. He would never forgive himself if he failed his Chosen – if he even managed to live through such a permanent loss. He knew he wouldn't survive if Edward didn't, though. That was as certain to him as the flow of time.

He had only managed to live, barely, for the past seventy-three years because of the expectations of others, because of the purpose he had to fulfill and, above all, because of the knowledge that somewhere in the world his most beloved one existed. If not for that, he would have disappeared. And that was only due to the absence of Edward. If his mate were to die, though… not even such a grand purpose would hold him back.

Taking a deep breath, Harry sank deep into his very essence and allowed himself to disperse. This was a form of travel open to him (much like teleportation) that he had never felt so grateful for before. To an outside observer, it would look as though he had burst into hazy grey-black smoke before disappearing entirely. The reality of it was much more complex, he knew, but didn't care to explain. All he wanted then was to get to Edward – fast.

Not seconds later, the smoke that was Harry appeared in the area the Lycans were attacking his Chosen. The young being, not even fully solid yet, raced towards the beasts and his most cherished one. Flinging out his arms, he sent them all flying, away from Edward, by the sheer strength of his will alone.

He stopped where Edward lay, but did not look at him. He could not just yet, and risk being distracted. First, he had to face the Lycans. When the threat was dealt with, and destroyed, he would focus his undivided attention on Edward.

The monsters before and around him were all growling menacingly, their stares angry and their hackles raised. That was nothing to the unadulterated fury flowing through Harry like lava just then. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. In the next instant he attacked.

With great speed, and making use of his teleportation ability, he jumped from one end of the field to another. So rapid were his strikes that it seemed as though he were attacking all seven Lycans at once.

Hitting the first with a blow, like a ton of bricks, to the chest, he turned and was already taking down the second with a roundhouse kick, the likes of which would have rendered it unconscious at the very least, was it a lesser being. Jumping to another part of the field, he took on a third Lycan and continued in this vein for a while. As he was fighting, Harry conjured up a fire in the center of the clearing. This was not the only way to ensure the demise of Lycans, but it was the quickest way he could think of then.

He struggled a few moments longer with one of the beasts before shoving it backwards, into the roaring flames. Not even waiting to ensure the Lycan's death, he was already on the next, ending it the same way. He managed to destroy two more Lycans in as many minutes, but the remaining three were able to flee. Harry let them. There was no way he was going to waste any more time on them, not when he had his severely injured mate to tend to.

And so, after throwing the last Lycan into the fire (the one Edward had managed to down), he intensified its power, reducing the creatures to nothing. Waving his hand, the fire disappeared and he turned to face his Edward.

Racing to his prone form, Harry did a quick, but thorough check-up on all his wounds. They were extensive and most of them were very deep. They had not healed at all. The venom unique to the Lycan species was in effect. While such a toxin was coursing through Edward's veins, saturating the slashes on his body, they would not be allowed to close. That meant that, with every passing moment, the Vampire lost more blood, keeping him weak and in a near comatose state. Not even feeding would help him now – not until the Lycan venom was dealt with.

Moving swiftly, Harry picked Edward up with ridiculous ease. The Vampire's head lolled as he did, having no motor skills at present (though he was far too gone to use them even if he did). Harry forcibly stopped himself from thinking of how very badly his Chosen was hurt, and of the consequences if he did not manage to negate the venom soon.

Sniffing at the air, Harry quickly picked up Edward's scent. Following the strongest, and therefore most recent, trail, the young being ran for all he was worth. He pushed himself harder than he ever had, using his fear to make his body go further. Even then, it seemed to him that he just could not make his legs move fast enough. He wished he could simply teleport, as he had done earlier. He did not know the effect this would have on Edward, wounded as he was, though; he decided not to risk it.

Eventually, finally, he came upon another clearing, at the center of which stood a beautiful modern structure – his mate's home, no doubt. Utterly uninterested in the house in that moment, however, Harry spared it only a single glance before he dashed up the front steps, and burst through the front door. It was rude and unceremonious, to be sure, but he did not have the time for propriety.

Every activity that had been in progress prior to his arrival stopped instantly. Harry was sure he would have been attacked, surging into the house, uninvited, as he had. In fact, the burly Vampire and the lithe blond one were just about to, but had then spotted Edward – blood-spattered and hanging limply in his arms.

"Alcohol!" Harry shouted out, his tone and demeanor urgent. "I need alcohol _now_! The strongest kind you have."

He didn't care that he knew none of these beings. He didn't care that he was intruding in their home, or giving orders like he owned the place. And he didn't care who followed those orders, only that someone did.

No one moved.

"_NOW_!" he yelled at them, gingerly placing Edward's unresponsive body on the large coffee table at the center of the lounge area. "I know this is a house of Vampires, but there must be one damn bottle of –"

Suddenly, a small bottle of clear liquid – undiluted hospital-use alcohol, by the smell of it – was thrust at him. Taking it, Harry hurriedly ripped off what was left of Edward's shirt and trousers. Unscrewing the cap, he doused the lifeless Vampire with the fluid, rubbing it meticulously into his wounds.

Edward seized up and began to thrash about as the Lycan venom reacted with the alcohol.

"Hold him!" Harry shouted to anyone who would listen. "Hold him down!"

The lithe Vampire he'd seen upon entering the house and another one, also blond, came to his aid. One held onto Edward's arms, the other his legs. Now able to finish his task, Harry did so with haste.

"Turn him over," he said, his voice not so loud anymore, but just as pressing. "I need to treat all the injuries."

The two Vampires did as told, but with difficulty; Edward was still unconsciously fighting against them. Getting the alcohol into every gash, finishing the bottle, they turned him onto his back once more. Throwing the bottle aside, Harry pulled up his sleeve, exposing his right wrist. He bit down over his main artery, breaking the skin. Opening his mate's mouth, he placed his bleeding wrist over it.

"Drink, Edward," he instructed, his tone taking on a pleading lilt.

The barely cognizant Vampire complied, closing his lips around the open bite wound and drawing in as much blood as he could with every pull. As he did so, Harry could not help but to maintain some contact with his Chosen. He stroked his uniquely bronze-colored hair back (marveling at the softness he never dared to hope he'd feel again); he caressed his face, calling forth barely buried memories of every distinct line and shape, mapping them out once again.

Before long, though, he began to weaken due to his own loss of blood.

"Enough, Edward," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Edward heard, however, and immediately stopped, opening his jaw and freeing Harry's hand.

The young being (as yet unknown to this family, he realized) stepped back a pace, but was unsteady. Raising a hand to his forehead, he swooned on the spot for a moment. His mind was hazy and he felt incredibly faint; he would have lost his balance and fallen over then, if not for one of the Vampire's who rushed to support him.

Leading him over to one of the couches, she sat him down gently before taking a seat next to him.

"Are you all right?" she asked kindly, her tone and character refreshingly soft, compassionate.

Harry made to nod, but found this did nothing to ease his dizziness and chose to respond instead.

"I'm fine," he assured weakly. His voice was raspy from his anxiety; he cleared his throat quietly. "I'll be fine."

"What happened?" asked a rather callous voice then. "Who are _you_?"

Looking up, Harry met the gaze of a stunning Vampire, yet another blond, who he could see, straight away, was wholly unsympathetic to him, but terrified for Edward (though she hid it well). Immediately, he felt respect for her.

"To answer your first question," he said, keeping his voice even yet not discourteous, "Edward was attacked… by Lycans. And to answer your second question, my name is Harry Potter."

A gasp sounded from somewhere behind the statuesque blond female. Looking around her, Harry spotted a tiny pixie-like Vampire. Her eyes were wide with recognition. The young man narrowed his own eyes.

"You know of me?" he asked, careful not to allow any inflection to enter his tone.

Her eyes strayed to Edward's still prone form and Harry followed her line of sight, and then looked back at her questioningly.

"You're… you're Edward's Chosen," she whispered, wonder evident.

Harry felt his breath stick in his throat. "He – he remembers me?"

The young being did not know what to think. Had he been wrong all along? Did Edward really remember him? If he did, then why did he leave? Did he truly not want him anymore? Did he really just want to be free of him? Harry could feel his breath quickening – slightly, but steadily. He thought he might be starting to hyperventilate. Could it really be true that his Chosen, his bonded, did not want to be with him?

The lithe blond male, one of those who had wanted to attack him, stepped forward.

"Only recently," he said. His tone was guarded, like he did not know quite what to make of Harry, and yet there was something like comfort in it as well. "Certain things, seemingly random, have been triggering flashbacks for Edward. Though he has seen you in every one, it was only a short time ago that he discovered, or rediscovered, that you are his Chosen."

He paused then, probably to allow Harry to absorb what he had just been told. As he did, he found his breathing slowing once more and his heart gradually unclenched, as the pain receded. Once he was calm enough, the same Vampire spoke again.

"Are you the same boy that Edward saw, standing in the parking lot at Forks High School?"

Harry lifted his head, managing to now look the Vampire in the eye. He really did have a very dangerous look about him; he carried himself like someone ever-ready for battle – like a soldier. He stood tall, keeping his shoulders back and tensed; his eyes were intelligent and calculating, and currently they were scrutinizing Harry. While this was, almost certainly, meant to discomfort him, it had the opposite effect.

Harry found himself sitting up straighter, staring unwaveringly back. He knew a little something about intimidation and he refused to be cowed.

"Yes," he replied calmly. "That was me."

The Vampire narrowed his eyes, his estimation of Harry shifting, in all probability.

"Why were you there?"

"I have reason to be in this town. I sensed the very strong presence of my Chosen, from whom I've been separated for too long a time. Why would I not seek him out?"

"And yet you stayed hidden, away from him. You made no move to contact him, or even to make yourself known to him. Why?"

So this was an interrogation, Harry thought to himself. He carefully weighed what he would and would not allow this family to know, for now, as he gazed into the soldier's eyes steadily; Harry was confident now that this Vampire had been some kind of military figure. Heavens knew, he'd come across many in his time.

"I was, up until a short while ago, not certain that Edward had his memories intact or not," he began slowly, every word considered. "I never knew, categorically, the reason that Edward left all those years ago."

Harry heard his voice getting thick then, as memories of old flooded him; as he remembered what it felt like waking up to realize that your life and you future had vanished, seemingly without cause. He cleared his throat softly. He could not allow himself to come undone, not now and not here.

"Even if he hadn't consciously chosen to leave," Harry continued, once he had gained control again, "he might have been better off, so to speak. We've been apart for just over seventy-three years, after all – a lot can happen in that time, a lot can change."

"Nothing changed."

Harry glanced to his right, where the new voice had emanated from. The other blond male, who had helped to hold down Edward, stood gazing at him calmly. There was nothing antagonistic about him in any way. The seated young man could sense that he was somewhat wary, and also that he was very curious, but he was not hostile. This served to put Harry at ease, at least a little bit.

"My apologies," said the same Vampire, a small rueful smile gracing his features. "You have stated who you are, but we have not afforded you the same courtesy. My name is Carlisle Cullen."

The Vampire then stepped forward, extending his hand in greeting. Harry stood up carefully, his ingrained manners taking hold of him almost unconsciously, and met Carlisle halfway.

"I'm honored," said Harry sincerely, shaking the Vampire's hand.

He had heard of Carlisle's cause as a 'vegetarian' Vampire, and the fact that he was famous for successfully maintaining a career as a doctor even though he was a Vampire, but that was overshadowed by the reason Harry felt truly privileged to be meeting him. This was Edward's Sire. His mate had always spoken highly of him, and he had wanted to meet Carlisle ever since.

"Edward's always had nothing but praise for you," he clarified.

Harry saw Carlisle's smile widen at this statement, and the pride shining in his eyes.

"I find myself feeling pleased to be meeting you, as well, Harry," the Vampire responded. "I am saddened that I do not know more of you, though."

Harry recognized the subtle manipulation – Carlisle was attempting to get him to reveal more about himself and his reasons for being in Forks. So, the good doctor was not without cunning. He smiled, but did not reply.

Carlisle nodded, accepting and respecting his silence.

"Sitting next to you," the doctor continued cordially, "is my lovely wife and mate, Esme. The rest of my family, our 'children', if you will, is made up of Jasper – the young man who helped me earlier with Edward – his wife and mate, Alice – the pixie Vampire who identified you – Rosalie, my first 'daughter', and Emmett, the burly young man at the back, her husband and mate."

Apart from Esme, who had smiled kindly at Harry upon her introduction, every other Vampire presented gazed at him guardedly, with no real show of emotion. The young man could understand this – he was the stranger, after all.

"Pleased to meet you all," Harry said courteously, with a slight bow of his head. Though he was wary as well, he was also earnest.

"Now," began Carlisle, his tone turning solemn once more, "you said Edward was attacked by Lycans. Am I to understand that you were referring to lycanthropy – as in, werewolves?"

"Not as you might know them," Harry said. He was about to explain, but was interrupted.

The burly Vampire, Emmett, scoffed. "Werewolves wouldn't have been able to do that to Edward!"

"Emmett," Carlisle placated, able to silence Emmett instantly with just the one word, though he still grumbled sourly. The head Cullen then gestured for Harry to continue.

Harry nodded. "You are correct," he told Emmett before going on to explain. "Werewolves, as they subsist today, would not have been able to injure Edward in such a way. However, _Lycans_ can – especially in large numbers.

"Lycans were the very first kind of werewolves in existence – werewolves are the descendents of Lycans. Or rather, more accurately, the infection evolved, thus creating werewolves as you know them."

"What are the distinctions between the two?" asked Jasper briskly, the soldier emerging once more. Harry noted now that his danger was powered, mainly, by the need to protect.

"Their scent is different, for one," Harry answered. "I suppose it's not as noticeable second-hand, but if you concentrate you might be able to tell. They are much larger, for another. A fully grown, or fully transformed, Lycan can reach heights of about nine feet tall when on their hind legs. They are bulkier, their mass made almost entirely of muscle. The venom they produce is unique and highly effective, even against Vampires."

Esme interrupted him here. "Edward won't… change will he? How will this affect him? Could it still harm him?"

Her worry made her speak rapidly and Harry had to pay close attention to be able to catch all that she was asking. Carlisle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, causing her to calm, just a bit.

Harry smiled in reassurance. "Edward is fine now. Lycan venom does not cause Vampires to change. The venom of a Vampire is equally as intense as that of a Lycan, and can therefore resist it. What it does do, however, is cause the Vampire's injuries to remain open – the Lycan venom stops the naturally fast healing of the Vampire, which consequently weakens him due to blood and venom loss. Because the Vampire's venom is occupied fighting of the Lycan venom, the healing is put on hold."

"How can you be sure that the Lycan venom is now out of Edward's system and won't further hamper his healing?" Carlisle asked intently, his nature as a doctor showing, but more than that his concern as a father.

"The alcohol that I rubbed into all of his wounds," replied Harry immediately, "and made sure entered his blood stream, reacts with the Lycan venom in a way that nullifies its effects. The more potent the alcohol, the more effectual it is. Edward's own venom would have, by now, eaten through the alcohol as well as the weakened Lycan venom. His wounds are closed; we can be sure that it worked."

"If it worked," asked Rosalie, her tone still far from accommodating, "then why is Edward still unconscious? If he had healed, he should have awoken."

Harry could still identify the worry buried beneath the cutting words; concern for her brother fueled her ire, and she was not being cold merely for the sake of it.

"I believe that he is currently getting his memories back," Harry answered, looking over at Edward. Even from where he was seated, he could see the rapid movement of Edward's eyelids, as if he were dreaming. "I cannot be certain, of course, but that would be my assumption, as a result of his ingesting my blood."

Carlisle walked over to Edward to examine him. He first studied his face before he lifted his Childe's eyelids, checking his eyes.

"I think I would concur," the doctor said after a moment. He looked around at his family with a reassuring smile. "It appears as though he is in a dream-like state. I suppose even a Vampire's mind would need time to assimilate that many and varied memories, coming at him at once. Edward's mind seems to have shut down his body so that it may cope with the onslaught."

He turned to Harry then, an enquiring look upon his face. "How many memories are we speaking of?"

"Just over three-year's worth," said Harry, his voice barely above a whisper.

He, too, was remembering those times he'd spent with his Chosen. He found it difficult to be there then, in the company of his unconscious mate and his family. Harry could not bring himself to leave, though. Seventy-three years… that was an exceedingly long time to spend separated from one's bonded mate. He was not about to walk away when he was finally able to fulfill a long-standing wish of his: to bask in the presence of his beloved once more.

Harry did not know how Edward would react to him, once he did regain his consciousness, memory intact. He did not know what Edward would feel, or even if the Vampire would feel anything for him. Edward had lived a long time on his own, with no memory of him whatsoever – as if he had never existed. It still tore at Harry's heart that his Chosen had not remembered him. He did not blame Edward, of course he didn't. It was not his mate's fault that his memories had been taken. It still hurt, though – so deeply that Harry could feel the cracks form all the way through him, right down to his soul.

He had never really healed from the loss of his Chosen. As soon as he had allowed himself to feel the pain, he had nearly drowned in it. For so many decades he had been living without any will, without any warmth – warmth that it only took the sight of Edward to bring forth in him once again. Just gazing at his love's face, unresponsive though it was, he could feel his heart stuttering to life, hammering with renewed purpose – as though it now had valid reason to beat.

No, Edward had not remembered Harry, but Harry remembered Edward. He loved him deeply and had never stopped. So profound was the feeling, so all-encompassing, that no amount of time apart, no matter how long, could erase it. Whatever happened now would happen, and Harry would face it like he had done with every obstacle that was ever thrown at him – with his head held high, his mind clear and, doubtless, with his heart on his sleeve. Regardless of what Edward decided, now that he would have his memories back, Harry would find some way to remain a part of his life, in whatever capacity he was allowed. Another separation, however, was not an option. It hadn't been an option since the day he'd seen Edward at the high school.

"I think he's waking up," said Carlisle then, bringing him forcefully back to the present.

It was time.

**/A\**

**Author's Note:** Wow! That was a longer chapter than usual…. A lot was touched on, though – all necessary as the premise to finally explaining a lot of what's going on. Next chapter sees the big talk between Harry and Edward… I'm actually nervous about that – I want to do it justice. Don't expect some long and drawn out journey to get them back together, though. The idea was always that Harry and Edward would have a pre-existing love – it's already established. So, there's really no need to drag it out. That would just be tedious, I think. I really hope that doesn't put anyone off this story, though….

Well, I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter. Please review and let me know what you all thought. I would greatly appreciate the feedback! Thank you! :)


	7. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Hi all! I am changing the rating of this story from 'T' to 'M'. I haven't actually added anything explicit, but it's really just to be on the safe side... Anyways, a huge thank you to everyone reading and enjoying this fic! Much love to all :)

**/A\**

_Come back when you can  
__Let go, you'll understand  
__You've done nothing at all  
__To make me love you less  
__So come back when you can  
__You left your home  
__You're so far from everything you know  
__Your big dream is crashing down and  
__Out your door  
__Wake up and dream once more  
__Come back when you can  
__Let go, you'll understand  
__You've done nothing at all  
__To make me love you less  
__So come back when you can  
__Come back, I'll help you stand  
__Let go and hold my hand  
__If all you wanted was me  
__I'd give you nothing less  
__So come back when you can_

»Barcelona – Come Back When You Can«

**/A\**

Chapter Six:

_**Year 1929, Private plane**_

"_You are such an __idiot__!"_

_Edward glowered at the boy seated across the aisle from him. They were currently aboard a private plane on their way to Italy, having left Chicago not half of an hour ago. Edward jerked his mind away from that line of thought – Chicago, and more specifically his short stint there, was not something he wanted to face right now._

"_Your observations are not necessary, nor are they welcome," he retorted just as heatedly._

"_Oh, so you're aware of the fact that you're an idiot?" the boy continued, mindless of Edward's rising irritation._

_Edward remained steadfastly silent. He did not wish to take his bad mood out on this stranger, even if he was causing said bad mood to elevate._

"_I mean, honestly," the unknown young man continued, not even caring that Edward was not responding. "Did you not think that it __might__ look a __little__ suspicious when known and wanted criminals just started dropping dead?"_

"_Harry," another calm, older voice cut in just in time. Edward was barely restraining his anger at this point, and while not all of it was due to the stranger next to him, he would definitely take it out on him._

"_I'm just trying to __understand__, Albus," the boy, Harry, said emphatically, his disbelief almost tangible._

"_Edward has lived a different life, Harry," Albus said simply._

_Harry, for his part, immediately quieted, making Edward wonder just what kind of life he has lived._

"_I still should have realized the consequences of my actions," the young Vampire said, albeit grudgingly. It was still difficult to admit how unthinkingly he had behaved. "I do apologize."_

_Harry did not acknowledge his words, simply staring at him as though trying to ascertain his sincerity. Albus, however, replied jovially._

"_Think nothing of it, my boy," he said, the smile evident in his tone. "We were more than happy to help. Isn't that right, Harry?"_

"_Ecstatic," Harry replied dryly._

_Edward smirked and watched as a small smile played upon Harry's lips. Perhaps they would get to know each other better in the time to come, he thought to himself. Maybe they would even get along._

…

_**Year 1929, Hogwarts grounds**_

_Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom, both Vampires, were two of Harry's better friends – meaning that they, at least, did not associate with him purely because of his fame and fortune, but were actually loyal to him._

_Edward had been astonished at the renown of the young man who'd saved him. As soon as they'd arrived at their destination – a place known as Hogwarts – Harry had been swept away by an enormous crowd of well-wishers and admirers. For some odd reason, this had caused great unease to settle within the Vampire, even though he had been assured that such a thing was not out of place for Harry Potter. Still, Edward could not have erased the look of distress upon Harry's face even if he tried. The youth clearly did not want, let alone delight in, his obvious celebrity. The Vampire had been successfully distracted, though, by the place he now found himself in. Its exact location within Italy remained a secret, but that mattered little when taking in the beauty and splendor of the surroundings._

_Acres and acres of lush green grass spread out all around him. Lining the massive site was, no doubt, an even grander wooded area. He had been told that the Black Forest, as it was known, was filled with many and varied types of magical beasts and creatures. They had not all been named to him, the amount being far too numerous, but he had discovered that unicorns actually existed, and that at least one herd used the Forest as a sanctuary. Before his time here was up, that was something the Vampire absolutely had to see._

_For certain, Edward had been utterly astounded at the first true sight he got of Hogwarts. There were many reasons for this, but first and foremost it was because he had never heard of the place, which was, for all intents and purposes, a sanctuary for Vampires. The place was, in actual fact, so large that it could be deemed to be a city within a city._

_He had been told by Albus Dumbledore, one of the founders of Hogwarts, and the ancient Vampire that had helped save him in Chicago, that the haven that was Hogwarts had originally been situated in Scotland. They had had to rebuild, however, due to a war, brought about by a sadistic dictator – a Vampire by the name of Voldemort (whose name no one even dared speak aloud, apart from a select few)._

_The young Vampire did not know much about the war or about Voldemort, but he did manage to learn that both had something to do, in part, to Harry's fame – and the peculiar scar upon his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning._

_Though the young celebrity had a propensity to irritate Edward, getting under his skin like no one else could, the telepath found himself constantly drawn to him. Initially, this had been due to the most puzzling discovery that the Vampire could not read the boy's mind. Not a single stray thought was open to Edward, and not for lack of trying! Slowly, though, it became clear to the bronze-haired being that there had to be more to it than that. An inability to read a person's mind would not lead __his__ mind to constantly stray to him; it would not have him constantly needing to know where the person was, and what he was doing. He would be frustrated, yes, but he should not be lead to feel as though not knowing Harry was a most offensive grievance – as though he was being denied the secret to the meaning of his own existence. And it was this very feeling that led him to seek out Harry whenever possible. He would not always interact with the young man, but he would always keep him in sight._

_It was for this reason that Edward now found himself standing at the edge of the immense grounds of Hogwarts, watching._

_Next to him sat Hermione Granger – one of the only humans at Hogwarts. She was what Harry called his 'donor'. Edward still cringed at the thought of exactly what that meant, but he was hardly in any place to judge. This did not stop him from feeling uncomfortable, however, which never failed to earn an amused smile from Hermione._

_Not too far ahead of the two of them, Ron and Neville stood, concentrating carefully on the center of the field, where Harry stood. His breathing had barely picked up pace, and yet he had just completed the first level of his nearly daily training session._

_Ron and Neville, who each had a part in said training, were both gifted. Ron was able to create what he called golems – which were much like mirages, except he could give them physical abilities that he could increase in stages. At present, his golems took on the exaggerated forms of creatures and monsters that would attack Harry, whose task was to defeat them all. At the first level of his training, he was not allowed any weapons. This was not much of a problem, however, as the golems weren't coordinated and made sporadic, weak attempts at the youth; this would then change, increasing in stages as he made his way through all seven levels of his training, with the aid of various weapons beginning around the fourth level._

_Neville's ability was control over plant-life. This did not sound like much, but Edward had borne witness to the things he was capable of – from seemingly giving life to the branches of trees (making them seem sentient), to making thick vines shoot out from, apparently, nowhere to do his bidding. As of yet, he had not made use of his gift, but would create effective obstacles in the later levels of Harry's training._

_Edward really did not understand why he would make himself watch these sessions – they always managed to make his stomach feel like a massive ball of tension, and set him on edge._

"_Must he train so rigorously?" the telepath finally bit out, his question directed at Hermione, though he knew the others could hear him as well._

"_Yes," was Hermione's simple reply, giving him a patient smile. He could see the strain behind it, though, and knew that she, at least, felt just as uneasy about what Harry put himself through._

"_Why__?" Edward burst out in frustration. He felt like gripping his hair, if not pull it out entirely._

"_We're in the middle of a war, Edward."_

"_Yes, the war – I've heard about the damnable war! But does it have to be __Harry__? Why does he seem to be the only one being put through __this__?"_

_Hermione sighed softly; it was a sound of agreement more than agitation at Edward. Her mind whirred with images and colors, but they were all moving so fast that the telepath was hard pressed to make any sense of her thoughts._

"_It is rather unfair, isn't it?" she asked quietly, not having any better response to give._

_Edward scoffed. "__That__ is the very definition of an understatement, Hermione."_

_The girl chuckled humorlessly, but said no more._

"_Harry is the only hope our world has right now, Edward," Neville said, but did not remove his eyes from Harry's training. "We have no one else."_

"_And that," Edward huffed, his nostrils flaring in anger, "is a pathetic excuse."_

"_You hardly even know him," Ron cut in, also not turning his attention to Edward as he spoke. "Why do you care?"_

_He was not being callous, the bronze-haired Vampire knew, but merely curious. The question, though, made Edward pause, the truth of it hitting him much harder than should have been possible. He really did not know Harry. What little he had learned had come mainly from the talks of others, which was barely credible. There was no reason for Edward to care and yet…._

"_I may not know him all that well," Edward agreed reluctantly, though his voice was still stiff, barely controlled, "but even I can see that he is being turned into a __machine__. You do __know__ him, however – does he deserve such a thing?"_

_No one answered; they had no reply good enough to justify what was happening to Harry, whether or not he had consented._

_Edward turned suddenly, making his way to the castle (which was the hub of Hogwarts, its main abode) with a determined look upon his face._

"_Edward?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "Where are you going?"_

"_To see Dumbledore," was the short reply from the Vampire._

"_You're wasting your time," Ron said, though his focus was back on Harry. "Dumbledore won't agree to stop Harry's training."_

"_I know," said Edward, matter-of-fact. "But he will agree to train me as well."_

…

_**Year 1929, Hogwarts Great Hall**_

"_There's something about him, isn't there?"_

_Edward started at the enquiry. He broke his unwavering gaze, only then realizing that he had been staring, unblinkingly, at Harry. If he could, the Vampire had no doubt that he would have blushed. His thoughts had been taking a decidedly less than innocent turn. Looking to his side, he watched as Hermione took a seat beside him._

"_Something that just captivates everyone who comes into contact with him," Hermione continued, her eyes focused on the subject of conversation. "Without him even trying."_

"_Indeed," Edward agreed, carefully keeping any inflection out of his tone._

_Hermione turned her gaze to Edward, looking at him intently for a long while and keeping her mind resolutely blank. Just as the Vampire began to get uncomfortable (which was ludicrous, considering Hermione was a human), she spoke again._

"_Don't hurt him," she said bluntly, her tone severe enough to sting._

_Edward was shocked. "I would never!" he said defensively, his tone heated._

_Hermione sighed, sounding much too weary for one so young._

"_I mean you no offense, Edward," she said then, her eyes once again on Harry. "It's just… Harry already believes that the world rests on his shoulders. Sometimes I think it won't take much more to break him. He surprises me every time, of course, but… but even he must have a limit."_

_The Vampire did not respond immediately, contemplating what Hermione had said. He had thought much the same things, having got to know Harry a bit more in the time he'd been at Hogwarts. Though it had only been around four months since he'd arrived, Edward had learned quite a lot and not all of it delightful._

_He could not help but feel awed by the raven-haired teenager. Harry had gone through so much in his young life, and he had to put up with so much still, that the Vampire often wondered how he managed to keep his head held high through it all. The tragedy, his pain, his fame, the inevitable falsity of most of the people around him – Edward felt certain that he would have gone insane. Harry, though… Harry was an unstoppable force._

"_I would never even think it, Hermione," Edward finally replied, his eyes fixed upon the green-eyed boy. "Indeed, there are times I wish I could lock him away from everything, make sure nothing touches him."_

_Hermione chuckled. "No doubt he'd have a spectacular fit at that! Far be it for Harry to allow himself to be treated as __fragile__. Although, sometimes… I think he might just thank you for it."_

"_When I first got here," Edward said, thinking back to his first few weeks at Hogwarts, "I thought that, with Harry being so young, he would bask in his fame."_

"_Harry?" Hermione scoffed, clearly amused. "Actually enjoy attention? Hardly! He'd like nothing more than to be on the same level as everyone else – and, at times, invisible entirely!"_

"_Oh, I know that now," Edward agreed readily. "He has a habit of taking me by surprise, as well."_

_Though he had not meant to show it, the admiration and respect in his voice was undeniable._

"_You haven't told him, have you?" Hermione asked suddenly, turning to look at him again. "About how you feel?"_

_Edward opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He thought he had been doing a good job of hiding his growing affections for Harry._

"_Don't look so shocked, Edward," Hermione said teasingly, nudging him gently with her shoulder. "Being one of the only humans in a Vampire haven allows for me to be… overlooked quite a bit. Not everyone means to do so, but it does happen. And because of this, I bear witness to much more than many would give me credit for; it wasn't very difficult to see the truth of your feelings."_

_Edward remained silent. What could he say? And he refused to refute the assertion – even though Harry was not aware, to deny his feeling for the beautiful boy seemed blasphemous to the Vampire._

"_I know it did not sound like it earlier," Hermione continued, not really needing a response from the Vampire. "But I'm certain that nothing and no one could make Harry as happy as you could, Edward. So…I'm going to take a leap of faith in telling you this – he feels the same way about you."_

_The breath left Edward's lungs in one great gush. He tried desperately not to hope, but the warmth of Hermione's words was already spreading throughout his body. For the Vampire, it had only been fear that had kept him quiet about his emotions – he could take a lot, but he was terrified that Harry's rejection might just be too much for him to bear. That was the very fact that made him almost certain that he had discovered his One, his Chosen. But would Harry choose him?_

"_How can you be sure, Hermione?" Edward asked, trying and failing to keep his voice calm. "I mean, there's always a chance…. What about Draco?"_

_Hermione laughed outright. "__Malfoy__?" she asked incredulously._

"_I know they fight constantly," Edward said, making every effort not to feel insecure and foolish, "but there's a lot more to it than that. They… connect on so many levels – or they could, if they wanted to. __Draco__, certainly, takes every opportunity to remind me of that very fact."_

_Draco Malfoy had quickly become the bane of Edward's existence, especially since he'd begun exploring his own feelings for Harry. As it happened, they were feelings that Malfoy also had for the raven-haired youth. If that was not irritating enough, Malfoy had the advantage (as he always rubbed in Edward's face) of having grown up around Harry. He was not constantly with him, thankfully, but he had a past with Harry. Also, Malfoy was not a Vampire, but a Veela – a fact that annoyed Edward on an entirely superficial level, he was aware, but could not help. Being a Veela meant that few others could match Malfoy's aesthetic attractiveness – very few others._

_While Harry and Malfoy tended to argue a lot, the warm and familiar undertones of said disagreements was not easily rebuffed. And as their animosity toward each other had dimmed, it was inevitable that they had become closer. Edward had not spied any romantic feelings from Harry aimed at Malfoy, but he was wary to get his hopes up. The development of those feelings was the next natural step – it could still happen._

_Hermione sobered somewhat, gazing at Edward compassionately. "They would make quite the pair," she agreed with a thoughtful nod, though her eyes glinted. "But that changes little. Given the choice, there is only one person Harry would take as his own, and it would not be Malfoy."_

_Edward looked away, shaking his head. He still was not sure he would be the recipient of Harry's love; he was not sure he deserved such a treasure._

"_I can see it better than any other, Edward," Hermione reassured him, placing her hand on his arm to get him to look at her once more. "I see it in the way his eyes light up at the mere mention of your name; in the way his head turns unconsciously to you as soon as you walk in the room; and in the way he defends you."_

"_Defends me?" Edward asked, surprised. He had not heard of such a thing happening._

"_Yes," Hermione replied, a smile lighting her face at the memory. "A simple suggestion was put forth – that you should not be here, that you don't belong and should be made to leave. Harry threw the most impressive tantrum I had seen from him yet! He was more spirited than I had seen him in a long time. And it was for __you__."_

_The Vampire felt his heart ache with the intensity of his emotions. He allowed his eyes to stray, once again, to young man who ruled his thoughts more than any other. He had known, of course, that there were many Vampires at Hogwarts that were against his presence in their sanctuary. Here, he was an outsider. That Harry had felt strongly enough to fight for him… it was enough to make Edward feel he could take them all on, and win._

"_Harry defended me," he whispered, the wonderment obvious in his voice._

_In that very moment, Edward realized that he would do everything in his power to ensure that Harry chose him, and that he never went wanting once he did._

…

_**Year 1929, Hogwarts, Room of Requirement**_

"_Why did you save me in Chicago?" Edward asked suddenly, unable to help himself._

_He and Harry were currently in a secret room, deep in the heart of Hogwarts castle. Harry had said that if there was one place he could go to feel safe and alone, he came here. Edward had felt honored to be allowed access to what the young man saw as his sanctuary; it made him feel trusted and privileged. Harry had come here now to study. No one had seemed willing to let him be long enough to get any work done, however, and so he had chosen to come to this room – and to bring Edward with him. For an hour or so, Harry had been working diligently, Edward not interrupting once. He could keep silent no longer, though._

_He had to know more about the enigma seated in front of him. This was made all the more imperative, but not solely, due to the fact that the Vampire could not read his mind, as with everyone else. That was the crux of it, though, Edward realized: Harry was not 'everyone else'. Harry was so unlike anyone he had ever met, the rarest of all gems._

_The telepath had no problems admitting that he was incredibly and increasingly intrigued. The boy seated before him featured in the majority of his thoughts; doubtless, he would appear in every single one was he to allow it. Harry was so intricately complex, so many different layers making the person that he was. Edward was fast coming to realize that one could never pin a single straightforward trait to him. For instance, the Vampire knew that the young man was beyond brave – to a fault, some would say – and yet he had this quality about him that made him seem so very fragile, making him want to shield Harry from the world and all its evils. There was no denying it: Edward was… spellbound – there really was no other word for it._

"_Am I to understand, Edward," Harry responded with a put-upon sigh, though his lips twitched, "that this… interrogation will not be discouraged?"_

"_It is not an interrogation," said Edward earnestly, his eyes never straying from Harry's beautiful face. "I want to know you."_

_Harry simply stared at Edward for a long while, his gaze transfixed on the Vampire's. Eventually he did manage to look away, a light blush tinting his cheeks, but it seemed to take some effort; Edward was pleased to note that._

"_I am not much, Edward," Harry replied, shaking his head in denial. "I'm… just Harry."_

"_I think you're everything," Edward whispered, mostly to himself. He hoped, fervently, that Harry would not think him too forward._

"_You should get out more," Harry said with a soft chuckle, though his eyes on Edward smoldered._

_The Vampire merely smiled._

_Harry sighed good-naturedly before answering the initial question._

"_I saved you because I couldn't leave you."_

_Edward frowned in confusion, but did not say anything as Harry clarified._

"_You were in trouble and I could help. And so I wasn't just going to turn away."_

_The Vampire's expression cleared immediately._

"_I see," he said lightly. "You have a hero complex."_

_Harry huffed, rolling his eyes. "Now you sound like Hermione."_

"_Well, Hermione is a very smart young woman. And she's right."_

_Harry just growled, mock-indignant, and crossed his arms over his chest. Edward saw through it, however._

"_Tell me," Edward began slowly, unwilling to dampen the light atmosphere but needing to know more. "Tell me about… Voldemort."_

_Harry's breath hitched; he did not reply immediately. Edward almost thought he wouldn't answer at all, but then he did, his voice small and hesitant._

"_Do you really want to know about that?"_

_Edward simply nodded, his gaze unwavering but compassionate._

_Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded back and began to speak, his voice now stronger._

"_Voldemort – or __Lord__ Voldemort, as he likes to be called – is the Vampire that killed my parents, when I was barely more than a year old. There are a lot of details that make this a rather longer story, but the bottom line is: he has this grand plan of supremacy – in which he wants to rid the world of ungifted Vampires, or enslave them, and eventually move on to human beings, in order to do much the same to them. And __I__ am, allegedly, in the way, which is why he's so active in trying to kill me."_

_Edward swallowed the bile he imagined rising up in him. There wasn't any, of course, but the mere thought of Harry's life in danger made him feel nauseous._

"_Why does he believe that?" he asked, getting his voice under control before speaking._

"_There was a prophecy. It was extremely convoluted, and did not mention me specifically, but Voldemort seemed not to care much. Regardless, because of the fact that he chose my family to attack, it now seems set in stone that I am the one destined to defeat him. Or rather, __attempt__ to defeat him."_

"_No!" Edward's denial was not shouted, but it was so adamant and so incensed that it did not need to be._

"_Edward," Harry said, his voice calm and almost resigned, even in the face of the Vampire's ire. "Edward, there's no other way. I have to face him, sooner or later. I have to end it, any way that I can."_

_The Vampire breathed heavily, raggedly. With immense effort, he managed to gain control over himself, though barely._

"_Well," he said finally, his voice tight, "you'll not do it alone."_

_Seeing that Harry was about to protest, Edward shook his head firmly._

"_No, Harry," he said, raising his hand to quiet the young man. "You say you have to face him, and I believe you, but __I__ have to help you. I __have__ to be with you. You __will not__ be alone – not in this and not ever, if you'll… allow me to be a part of your life."_

_Harry did not reply; instead he rushed at him, enveloping him in a hug that would have knocked the breath out of him if he weren't a Vampire. Edward returned it with the same intensity, though ever mindful not to hold too tightly, lest he hurt Harry. No words were necessary beyond that for the moment. The choice was made. Harry chose him._

…

_**Year 1930, Hogwarts, Harry's rooms**_

"_I love you."_

_His declaration was whispered, his breath lightly ghosting over Harry's lips. Edward had just been so thoroughly kissed by his love that he felt his knees weaken, his breath leaving him (though he did not need it)._

"_And I love you," Harry returned, his tone just as soft, just as intense._

_Instead of letting go, however, Harry moved closer, pressing the length of his lithe, perfect body against Edward's. His lips trailed over the Vampire's skin, moving from his jaw down the column of his throat. Edward lifted his head, allowing more access to Harry's exploring mouth and tongue._

"_Harry," he breathed, his eyelids drifting shut of their own accord. They were treading dangerous ground, the Vampire knew only too well. He could not find it in himself to pull away just yet, though._

_His young love moved his hands down Edward's chest, torturously slow, feeling every firm line and solid ridge. He seemed to be studying him by touch alone. Edward could feel himself hardening with every caress, with every open-mouthed kiss, and with every stroke of his mate's tongue. Soon enough, he would not be able to hold himself back. And then Harry's hands were under his shirt, pushing the material up in order to gain access to even more skin, his touch burning into Edward as if his hands were fire. They had to stop._

"_Harry," Edward said again, his voice much firmer now as he gently began to pull away. He regretted to do so, especially considering the fleeting look of rejection that crossed Harry's features, but it had to be done. Harry had not yet gained his Inheritance – he was still soft, still breakable. He could not bear the thought of hurting his Chosen in any way, and to let this go any further would, doubtless, lead to harm for his green-eyed love._

_Having expected Harry to stop and turn away, as had happened every other time, Edward was surprised when his arms tightened instead, his nails digging into the Vampire's skin as much as they could._

"_Don't," Harry said breathlessly, his tone pleading and bordering on pained. "Please don't pull away from me, Edward."_

_The Vampire froze. He felt his heart tighten agonizingly at the imploring voice and gaze leveled at him. He could hardly stand to look directly into his love's eyes, the emerald orbs shining with hopefulness, love and desire. He cupped his mate's face with both his hands, pressing a light, chaste kiss upon his lips._

"_We can't do this, Harry," he whispered gently against Harry's mouth, willing him to understand and accept. "You know this. I will hurt you."_

"_But we __can __do this," Harry disagreed vehemently. "And I know you won't hurt me, Edward. I trust you completely."_

_Edward gave him a sad look, even as he smiled apologetically._

"_I don't trust me," he said simply, easing out of Harry's embrace._

_His Chosen let his hands drop to his sides, limply, and he lowered his head to avoid meeting Edward's gaze. The Vampire longed to pull him back into his arms, beg his forgiveness and give him everything he wanted. He had to remain steadfast, however. This was for the better; he had to remember that._

_Harry sighed, resigned._

"_All right, Edward," he said, looking up then, his voice resolute. "I understand."_

_Edward nodded, and would have gone on to thank Harry for not pushing the issue, except he felt his breath catch in the next instant, and his mouth dry up._

_Instead of letting things be, Harry's hands had strayed to the buttons of his shirt. He slowly unclasped them all the way down. Then, just as leisurely, he pulled the shirt off, exposing his stunning, smooth sun-kissed skin. He backed away towards the bed, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His eyes, burning with a passionate emerald fire, never left Edward. The Vampire greedily drank in every inch of his mate's naked torso; his breath left him in short puffs, though beyond that he could make no sound. Until…_

"_What are you doing?" he asked when his Chosen's hands moved to the button of his trousers, his voice raspy with need and the effort it took to keep himself rooted to the spot, rather than rush at Harry as he so wanted to do._

"_Well," Harry replied, his tone breathless as he took in Edward's reaction, "I seem to have worked myself into quite a state. I'm just going to have to take care of the... __problem__ on my own."_

_By this time, he was gently pushing himself back, positioning himself in the middle of the bed. He had been wearing no underwear; Edward choked on the realization._

"_You don't have to stay," Harry whispered, still watching the Vampire with heavy-lidded eyes._

_Edward did not move._

"_This isn't the first time I've done this," Harry went on, keeping his voice low, husky, as his hands began caressing his chest firmly. His fingers brushed against his nipples, the darkened tips taut with his want, and a deep, almost painful, moan escaped his lips. "I've been… fantasizing about you for a long time now, Edward."_

_The Vampire groaned his own response. He gripped the edge of the chest of drawers next to him, splintering the wood with the power of his hold. Every muscle in his body was stiff with the effort it took to keep still. He had by now ceased to breathe all together, lest the scent of his Chosen undo him._

"_Please," he choked out, his voice unrecognizable to him. "Please – Harry, don't…"_

_Harry's hands kept up their ministrations, however, moving lower all the while. Edward thought to shut his eyes to the sight, but couldn't; his gaze was glued to his mate, watching as his fingers worked their way lower… lower… lower…._

_Harry's breathing was becoming even more labored due to his anticipation, his eagerness, his yearning. He never got to do what he had set out to, though – Edward broke._

_Just as his mate's right hand was about to reach its destination, the Vampire rushed forward. In less than a split second, he was kneeling between Harry's legs, spread wide open for him. He knocked the hand away with a possessive growl and, in the next instant, encased his Chosen's hard and weeping length in the warm, wet heat of his mouth._

_Edward felt a single moment of unbridled satisfaction, hearing the surprised cry of pleasure he rent from deep within Harry, and then (for the first time in his life) gave himself over entirely to sensation._

…

_**Year 1932, Hogwarts**_

_Edward rushed through the corridors of Hogwarts at speeds not even he knew he could. Harry – his Harry, his Chosen, his __everything__ – was in grave danger and he had to get to him. Even given his vampiric speed, the telepath still felt as though he were moving through heavy sludge, while his destination seemed to move further and further away from him._

_With a roar of absolute refusal to fail, Edward pushed himself as far as he could, and then further. He would not let Harry down, not ever and most especially not when he needed him. As he rounded the last corner, entering the corridor that led to the Room of Requirement, he saw Hermione running full tilt from the other end._

"_Edward!" she cried out, her tone desperate and on the verge of uncontrollable tears. "Ginny is leading the evacuation – everyone is gone! And I can't find Dumbledore anywhere!"_

_The Vampire was having a difficult time caring about anything but Harry at this point. _

"_Harry," he said, voice tight and barely restrained. "I have to get to Harry."_

"_Edward, no!" Hermione shouted, reaching out as though to stop him. "They've used Fiendfyre! It's magical fire that won't go out – it will just get bigger the more that feeds it! It's __fire__ - fire will kill you, Edward!"_

"_Yes," Edward agreed coolly, finally at the door to the Room. He looked Hermione straight in her eyes. "It's fire. Fire… and __Harry__."_

_A defeated look crossed Hermione's face. She had no argument good enough to fight against that simple fact. Edward nodded once and pushed through the door, breaking it down in his wake but not sparing it a second glance._

_The room he rushed into was massive, easily the size of the Great Hall, and crammed with mounds and mounds of what could be rubbish, for all he cared. The fire had not yet reached as far as the entrance, but thick smoke filled the entire space. Edward was never more grateful that he did not require air. Harry, who had barely begun adjusting to his Inheritance, still did, though. The thought pushed Edward forward._

"_Harry!" he called out, his voice becoming desperate. "Harry!"_

_An immense round of coughing met his sensitive ears, but it was soft. That could either mean that Harry was much deeper into the cavernous room, or he was already beginning to lose consciousness. Edward used this latter possibility to push himself to his limits._

_The farther he got into the room, though, the hotter it got. Eventually, he spotted the magical flames, eating through everything they touched and licking at the ceiling – high as it was._

_Another round of choking coughs and Edward surged forward, only to stop short._

_A great beam from the roof, completely engulfed in fire, fell in that instant. If not for his sharper than normal reflexes, the Vampire would have been hit by it. As it was, he dodged, but still could not count himself as lucky. The flames from the beam licked at various other objects on the way down, dropping them as it went, and effectively setting them alight as well. Before long, a wall of fire blocked Edward's path, forcing him to find another way around. The problem was that the fire was now almost everywhere, seemingly pushing in on him from all sides._

_Edward ran from one path to the next, finding dead-ends at every turn. Another roar, angry and forlorn, tore past his lips. His frustration and fear was mounting with every blocked turn. He could barely think any longer, his trepidation rising up in him like vomit._

"_Edward…"_

_The sound of his name, whispered so softly he might have imagined it, brought his mind crashing to a halt. It was exactly the jolt he needed to focus once more._

"_Harry?" he said, his voice as firm as he could make it. "Where are you, my beautiful love?"_

"_You –" Harry began, but choked as another fit of coughs took hold of him. Once they had subsided, he tried again, his voice far too faint for Edward's liking. "You… shouldn't be h-here… P-please…"_

_Harry had said enough for the Vampire to ascertain his exact location, more-or-less. He seemed to be directly behind the burning wall in front of Edward. Moving a few paces down, so that he could spare Harry from any falling debris, the Vampire steeled himself for what he was about to do. Keeping the thought of saving his mate at the forefront of his mind, Edward acted without hesitation._

_He punched through the wall of fire._

_Even though Edward tried as much as he possibly could, nothing would have prepared him for the actual experience of being burned. The flames had immediately lapped at him, as though he were doused in gas, and the lit embers from the falling residue made short work on the clothes he wore, burning holes through them to get to his skin within milliseconds._

_Edward shook it off and patted himself down with barely a grunt. He had more important things to worry about – dying in an actual blaze would have to wait._

_With that, the Vampire glanced around and rushed to Harry once he'd spotted him. His Chosen was lying on the floor, his limbs at angles that could not be comfortable. If not for the erratic breathing, and the coughs that shook his frame every so often, Edward would have feared the worst. Harry's clothes were tattered from the cinders eating through them, but it seemed that the most damage had been done by smoke inhalation._

_A sinister crack sounded from above, and the brief moment of relief Edward had felt dissipated like smoke in a breeze. A beam from the roof directly above his beloved was breaking free. As the Vampire watched, another large splinter appeared and the wood fell._

_Speeding forward, Edward lifted his Harry from the floor and was running for the exit before the beam touched the ground._

_There were even more dead-ends now, as the Fiendfyre had spread outward with incredible alacrity. The telepath spotted a break in the flames, though it was fast closing. Edward was faster. He hastened his pace, and burst out of the door-less entryway to the room just as it caved in._

"_Oh, sweet Merlin!" Hermione shouted as soon as she caught sight of Edward, Harry limp in his arms. "You made it!"_

_The Vampire was in too much agony now to react to her, however. He may have made it out of the room, but some of the fire went with him. As he had jump out, stray flames caught the bottom of his slacks – and they were spreading upward speedily._

_Quickly but gently, Edward lay Harry down – Hermione would now have to see to it that Harry was taken care of, as the Vampire knew she would. Not long after, he fell to the ground, his body wracked with spasms; he was still aware enough to tell, but that was fading just as fast as the fire was moving. The heat was taking him over, a heat so powerful it was almost as painful as the venom had been upon his changing. This was where eternity ended for him and yet, despite that, he knew peace._

_Harry was saved – he had not failed his Chosen._

…

_**Year 1932, Hogwarts, Harry's rooms**_

_Waking up in what had looked like a hospital room had been… strange, Edward reflected. His last memory as a human had been of a too white hospital room; he had never thought he'd see one again, let alone as a patient. That did nothing to hinder the utter relief and elation he had felt upon awakening, though. Not only was Harry alive, but so was he – and free to spend all his time, his eternity, with his most cherished love._

_He had been shocked, though he really should not have been, to find Hermione in the bed next to his. She had been attached to him by means of various tubes (he had discovered later that they had actually stuck a needle directly into one of his open wounds, as his Vampire skin would have prevented this otherwise). As Edward could not feed directly from the girl – his venom would have changed her immediately – this was how they managed to get the Vampire fresh blood to aid his healing, via transfusion._

_Crimson orbs stared back at Edward now, as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror in Harry's room (or rather their room since Edward spent just as much time in it as Harry). After his decision to no longer feed on human beings, it was a little disconcerting to see this. More distressing, however, was his mate's subdued nature, which had been so since his wake, and that not even making love had eased for too long. The newly healed Vampire turned and looked directly at his Chosen then._

"_Please tell what bothers you so, Harry?" he pleaded, not liking the uselessness that gripped him at the thought of not being able to help his love._

_Harry turned to meet his gaze, his eyes somber, pained._

"_I should have been able to heal you," he said so softly that Edward would have missed the words, if he was human. "My blood would have worked better and faster, if only..."_

_His love's voice trailed off, almost remorsefully, and Edward's gaze softened immediately. He pulled Harry into a tight embrace, still feeling the bone-deep relief of being able to. He breathed deeply, savoring the scent of his Chosen that filled his heart with joy and his soul with light._

"_You needed to heal," Edward reassured gently._

"_I know I sound petty right now, Edward," Harry replied, pulling away only enough to look him in the eyes. "But that's not what I mean. I've never been more relieved or more grateful for Hermione's presence. She __saved__ you, and I will be forever indebted to her."_

"_Then tell me what you do mean. What is it that has you looking so aggrieved?"_

_Harry hesitated, but only for a single second._

"_I… I want us to complete our bonding," Harry whispered, his gaze steady as he looked at the Vampire, but his hands fidgeting from his nerves. "Please."_

_Edward's breath caught, his eyes dilating. He had spent a lot of time recently thinking of this very thing. He and Harry only had one last step to fulfill their bonding. This had been something that had made the Vampire uneasy in the past, as he had never truly accepted what he was. Things were much changed now, though. With the love and support of Harry, not only did Edward fully realize and accept himself, he now had a deep appreciation for being a Vampire – for if it were not for his nature, he would not have been able to save his Chosen._

_Harry seemed to misunderstand his reaction, however._

"_I know that this is uncomfortable for you, Edward," he said, rushing to convince the Vampire as best he could before any denial came. "I know that you, only recently, began to delve into your nature as a Vampire, and that you may not yet have achieved peace with it, but… please. I want, no, I __need,__ desperately, to know that if anything were to happen I would have the power to help you, to save you if need be. But beyond that, my love, if my time really is short, if I really am to… depart once this war is done, I want to be able to do that __knowing__ that I am yours – wholly, unequivocally __yours__. And I'd want you to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that there will __never__ be another for me, Edward. There is no other."_

_Edward tightened his arms around his Chosen. He did not like, had never liked, the idea that Harry's time was limited. Hearing him speak of it now, as though discussing some or other interesting theory, was nearly too much for the Vampire. He focused instead on the last words his mate had spoken – the words that he would call to mind any time his being fell into despair, and use as a balm to ease all his doubts and fears._

"_Hush, love," whispered Edward, a broad smile taking over his features. He felt his heart skip a few beats as a gasp passed Harry's lips at the expression; to this day, he still felt ridiculously happy knowing he was able to dazzle his mate. "There is nothing more I have ever wanted in my entire life, and I am certain there'll be nothing in the future as well."_

_The light that shone in Harry's eyes at his declaration nearly blinded him. If there was no other reason to complete their bond, that one look would have been more than enough._

_Deeming no more words necessary, Edward slowly raised his hand to his bare chest, dragging the nail of his forefinger across his skin, just above his left pectoral. The gesture seemed gentle, but a thin, dark red stripe formed in its wake, his thick blood easing out of the wound._

_Harry's eyes (pupil, iris and sclera) were solid, striking green when he looked away from the cut and into Edward's eyes. His breathing had gone shallow, and his breaths were leaving him in short pants, his pure, raw hunger unhidden. The mere sight of it caused Edward's mouth to pool with venom, and his own breathing to become labored._

_Torturously slow, Harry lowered his head and moved forward. The first lap of his tongue almost undid Edward absolutely, as it scraped across his open wound. Edward's head fell back at the sensation, and one of his hands gripped his love's waist, pulling him closer, while the other rose to entangle itself in Harry's hair. He was not really holding his Chosen in place, but he did not want him to stop either._

_Harry's lips closed eagerly around the cut Edward had created, pulling gently, and the Vampire felt it directly in his groin. From their closeness, Edward could tell that his mate felt no different, and his anticipation grew beyond what he had ever thought possible._

_Edward had always known the final step in the bonding – the sharing of life essence, which was, in their case, their blood – would affect him greatly, but he had never understood just how much, or how thoroughly. He had underestimated it, but appreciated now why not every being was able to commit to such a degree. Edward felt himself changed irrevocably. There was no way, now, to undo the bond between himself and Harry, and no possibility of denying it. This inescapable certainty exhilarated the Vampire like he knew nothing else would, or could._

_When Harry finally tipped his head back, his eyes half-lidded and his tongue darting out to leisurely lick his lips, Edward thought he might come right then. He held himself back, though, and not with any small effort._

_By the deliciously devious smirk on his love's face, he knew exactly how he was affecting Edward. Languorously, Harry stretched back, bearing his neck to the Vampire, who had to swallow thrice to ensure that no venom remained in his mouth. The venom would not affect his Chosen in any negative way, but he wanted nothing to hamper this experience for either of them._

_Not able to hold back any longer, Edward leaned forward and locked his lips onto his mate's skin, just at the curve of his neck and shoulder. Sucking gently, refusing to rush, the Vampire dragged a low, guttural moan from Harry. The Vampire smirked at the reactions he was able to draw, without fail, from his beloved, but did not stop his ministrations._

_Before long, Harry began to writhe, panting and needy, from the intense attention the Vampire gave him. Slowly and very gently, Edward bit into his mate's skin. A small, sharp intake of breath was the only indication that Harry had felt the sting, but he brought a hand up to the back of the Vampire's neck, threading his fingers in his hair, and ensuring that he did not cease._

_Pulling softly, Edward truly tasted his Chosen for the first time. Absolutely nothing could compare. As the warm life essence of Harry touched his tongue, pure light seemed to ignite behind his closed eyes and sparks exploded throughout his body and his being. He could feel as his and his love's magic intertwined, testing and then accepting each other on a level so few got to experience. In a way that Edward would never be able to imagine or explain, he and Harry were now one._

_The only way for the both of them from here was up; the heights they could and would soar to were beyond belief, but they would reach them. Now that they were together, conceivable forever, there was no stopping them…._

**A…A**

**Present-day, Cullen residence**

A roar tore through the still evening air, shaking the very foundations of the Cullen abode.

So filled with anger and absolute anguish, none within hearing range could possibly be unaffected by it. In fact, had he not felt the immediate response to remain steadfast in the face of his Chosen's pain, Harry would have fallen to his knees. As it were, he could not.

He had to stay solid, be the unyielding pillar that his mate could lean on, and borrow strength from – should he wish to. There was always the possibility that he was not wanted, not needed. Harry chose to disregard those particular thoughts; they were no help to him or to Edward right now.

"Edward," Carlisle said, his voice calm but firm, willing his Childe to heed his surroundings, to be present – for it was quite clear to all that Edward was trapped in his memories still. He was conscious now, but his mind was elsewhere, in the past.

"He took everything from me," the bronze-haired Vampire whispered then, not yet fully present but aware, nonetheless. "_Everything_!"

"Who, darling?" Esme asked then, her voice agonized in the face of her son's obvious suffering.

Harry, who had remained resolutely silent and carefully watchful of his Chosen, saw the flicker of emotions behind Edward's eyes as he awakened fully, even if no one else could. Edward's head turned swiftly, specifically seeking out his mate. His eyes not only pinned Harry to the spot, they burned right through him, searing his heart and setting his very essence alight. Harry shivered.

"Father," he said then, his voice still soft, but his tone indomitable.

It took only that one word for his Sire to understand his request. With a smooth gesture, Carlisle quietly got everyone to leave the house, and probably then out of hearing range. Only Harry and Edward remained, their attention focused solely on each other.

Harry had been dreaming of this very moment for the majority of his life thus far. Now that it was finally here, now that his Chosen was within reach, he found his mind was blank. What do you say to the very one you'd been longing for, for seventy-three years? How do you react when confronted with the _only_ dream you'd ever desired to have fulfilled?

His heart did not seem to be having any such dilemmas, however. It was beating so hard and so fast, Harry was sure that it was fighting to be free of its cage so that it could be where it belonged – with Edward. With the greatest effort, he ensured that his feet did not follow the same example. Having just endured the onslaught of his memories, to be clingy now would not serve Edward.

Harry took a deep breath, attempting (and failing) to still his frantic heart and his turbulent emotions. He opened his mouth, not having any idea of what to say, but was saved from having to figure that out.

"I'm so sorry."

The whisper was barely audible and so very broken. Never before had any sentence seemed to hold so much weight – it froze Harry on the spot, so that all he was capable of doing was stare. It did not stop his heart from splintering, however, or his body from quivering.

"I could never stress how very sorry I am," Edward continued, his eyes ablaze with his honesty. He was beseeching Harry to believe him, as though if he didn't the universe would crumble around him, and he would be lost for all eternity. Harry staggered under the credence of Edward's emotions – his pleading, his longing, his hope, his despair, his passion, his pain… and his undying love.

He would not have been able, just then, to respond even if Edward gave him the chance. He didn't.

"But please – _please_ – you have to believe me! If I could have, if I had had any choice, I would not have left! I _never_ would have left you! I would have been by your side, right where I've always belonged – fighting for you, loving you! I swear it! Harry…. Please say you believe me. Please tell me you haven't given up on me. Please."

"Edward, stop!" Harry gasped out then, unable to bear much more. His Chosen's words seemed to squeeze every bit of air out of his lungs, so intense were they. "Please just stop."

"I can't!" the Vampire burst out, his raw grief cutting through Harry better than any sword ever could. "I can't – you have to believe me, you have to know! I still _love you_! I don't know if I can even explain how that's possible, but it's the truth! I _never stopped _loving you; I just didn't remember that I did! Can you understand that? Does that make any sense? No! No, of course it doesn't! I just… I don't…"

Edward was on the verge of ripping his hair from his skull – so profound was his frustration, and his desperation. Harry rushed forward, grabbing his hands to stop him just in time, and refusing to let go.

"Edward, look at me!" he commanded firmly, shaking his mate lightly. "Stop it, and just _look_ at me!"

His Chosen complied, though it seemed to take him much effort. He could not stop his body from trembling, however.

Now that Harry had his attention, he did not know exactly how to make Edward realize that he did not blame him, that he did believe him, and that he loved him still.

"I… I'm glad you left," he whispered, mostly to himself. Edward heard, though, and his face crumpled. His torment, in that moment, was so very real and so impossibly deep, that it seemed to fracture him from his soul outwards. He tried to pull away from Harry, no doubt to run as far as he could in the hopes of outrunning his hurt.

"No! Edward, hear me out!" Harry said loudly, holding on for dear life – which was all too accurate a description, he thought to himself; he really was holding on to his life, for Edward was his everything. "Let me finish, Edward!"

His mate stopped struggling, but he kept his gaze averted, refusing to look into Harry's eyes. His heart was still bleeding; Harry could see that as clearly as if his blood were actually pooling on the floor.

"That you left," he whispered, voice straining more from the chaos of his feelings than from keeping Edward close to him, "it was my saving grace. Realizing that you were far away, that you had gone in time – that was the reason I was able to even get up again, Edward. It was the reason I was able to even _fake_ a life."

Transported decades into the past, Harry remembered the day, once Voldemort was finally gone, that he had got enough control over himself to think clearly. He remembered waking up more grateful than he had ever thought it possible to be, thanking whatever deities existed who would listen – for surely some had to exist to allow such a miracle to occur. His most cherished one, his beloved, his Chosen was alive. He was away and he was safe.

It crushed him that, in order to survive, Edward had to be away from him, but Harry could not bring himself to resent it. How could he? His mate's life was all-important to him – more even than his own, or the entire world's for that matter. And it was intact. If he never got to see Edward again, he would always remember and be indebted for that fact alone.

Edward was shaking his head, however, almost certainly willing the words to disappear, not wanting to hear more and plainly not comprehending. He stayed in Harry's arms, though, not pulling away anymore.

"Look at me, Edward," Harry pleaded softly. Ever so slowly, the Vampire lifted his head and reluctantly did as requested. "You were saved _because_ you left."

Confusion entered Edward's eyes, along with just a sliver of hope.

"If you had stayed, as you had vowed you would, I would have lost you, too," Harry explained, his throat closing up so that he had to fight to get the words out. "You would have _died_, Edward! You would have perished along with everyone else – and because of me! I would have killed you, too."

Now it was Edward who was holding Harry up. If not for the Vampire, the young being would have collapsed under the weight of his sorrow, and of his guilt.

"Harry…?" Edward whispered, still not fully understanding, his mate could tell.

"So, you see," Harry forged on, not able or willing to stop, "It was a good thing, a _blessing_, that you left when you did. You would not be standing here now, holding me, if you hadn't. And that is what saved me."

**/A\**

Edward hugged Harry to him tightly, unable to let him go.

His Chosen was in his arms again, exactly where he should always have been. He was shaking, grieving and bleeding from, as yet, invisible wounds, but he was here. All the cracks finally closed, the wounds healed and his very being knit itself back together again – he was whole once more.

He found it so very obvious now, looking back, why he had always felt as though something were missing from his existence – for it had not truly been a life without his Harry. He could see it, in retrospect, why he chose to remain in a rut, stagnant and empty, instead of picking himself up.

It was no excuse, he knew that, but at least he could now appreciate why it had been so.

"I wish I could give it back to you," Edward whispered, almost mournfully, "all the time we've lost. But I can't, and I think that is what hurts the most. I will always regret it."

" I don't blame you, my love," Harry said, his voice a lot calmer now as he burrowed into the Vampire, accepting his comfort, "I told you once, Edward, that love – real, deep, eternal love – is a choice. You can love a lot of _things_ about a person: how he looks, how he speaks, how he behaves, his status, his views, his characteristics… but if all that were to fade, and you were left with just the man – would you still love _him_? Or would it all have been about the _things_? That's where the choice matters. For if you _choose_ to absolutely love someone, you choose to love the _person_, outside of the things. And I chose _you_, Edward. I chose to love all of you – the man you are as a whole as well as the things that make you who you are."

Edward was breathing heavily as he allowed the voice of his love to wash over him, wrap him up and insulate him. His heart had swelled to so greatly that he felt certain he would levitate. Light and color had re-entered his world. The universe was a bright and beautiful place once again, and he could not only see it, but he could value it, too.

"And that is why I love you _still_," Harry continued, pulling away slightly to look into Edward's eyes, conveying his sheer sincerity. "Even though you weren't there, I just continued loving you, Edward. All this time…"

His voice trailed off and, for a moment, Edward simply stared, marveling at the wonder he held in his arms – the wonder that was _his_, and his alone. He traced Harry's every feature, almost obsessively, from his expressive, extraordinary jewel-like eyes, to his high cheekbones, to his full, full lips…. Edward wondered if they were still as soft as he (now) remembered.

Harry chuckled softly before he could act on his curiosity.

"How's that for an ego booster?" he asked lightly, teasingly.

"I have reason to be arrogant," Edward replied softly, leaning forward.

The air around them thrummed with energy, so vibrant that it positively crackled. Edward almost would have expected to see actual sparks. It would not have surprised him. His breath was shallow now, as eagerness and impatience coursed through him, warming him in a way that the sun never could have managed. Harry's breath mingled with his for an instant, hot and enticing. Edward had never before anticipated something as much as this. If he were to be denied in that moment – the Vampire was certain he'd lose his mind.

And then their lips touched.

Every nerve ending in Edward seemed to ignite at once. His mind, his body and his soul all came alive, pulsing with the life-force that he had been starved of for so long.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed, his lovely long eyelashes brushing against Edward's skin, which now felt hypersensitive. Every brush of lips and touch of skin sent jolts like electricity coursing through the Vampire. His love's arms slowly made their way up his, encircling his neck, and his fingers twisted themselves into his hair. Edward's arms wrapped around Harry's waist more securely, pulling his mate's body flush against his own, needing to be closer.

Though the kiss was far from chaste, it was passionate and intense while still being gentle, reverent. When Edward had brushed his tongue along Harry's lower lip, his mate had allowed him entrance immediately, as though to deny him never even crossed his mind. Their first brush of tongues (after so many decades, at least) was heaven. The Vampire was pleased to note that his love held nothing back from him – like he would tell him his every secret through a single kiss. He gasped and moaned and whimpered with abandon, and Edward, giving just as much as he got, had never known such ecstasy, such desire.

"Edward," Harry whispered, his warm breath ghosting across the shell of the Vampire's ear as Edward's lips began to travel. He pressed light, chaste kisses all along his Chosen's jaw, up to his left ear before making his way down the column of his delectable neck.

After a moment, Edward simply laid his forehead upon Harry's shoulder, breathing in his unique scent and allowing his mere presence to wash over him, a soothing salve to his aching soul. He was gratified when he felt his mate's arms tighten around him, as well, and heard a deep relieved sigh escape his lips.

"I missed you," Harry breathed before chuckling softly and pulling slightly back. "Such a meager sentiment, isn't it, all things considered?"

"Never," was Edward's vehement denial.

More would have been said, without doubt, and indeed much more needed to be said, if not for Alice bursting back into the house, using the back entrance.

"The Volturi!" she near-shouted, her breathing heavy as if she had had actually felt the run she certainly made to get there. "I haven't Seen anything until just now – and it was only a glimpse! But they're _here_, Edward!"

"Alice," Edward replied, his voice deliberately calm and even. "Slow down, Alice. What exactly did you see?"

The pixie-like Vampire made a frustrated sound, her tiny body positively vibrating with agitation, but she answered nonetheless.

"Not much, but that doesn't matter! At least one member of the guard is here. We don't have much time, I think –"

But her statement was silenced abruptly by the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the house. The distraction of Alice had been enough to allow the, as yet, unknown guard member's trek to the residence to go unnoticed.

By this time, the rest of the Cullens, all tense with apprehension, had joined them in the living room. Everyone simply stared at the front door, visible from their vantage point, for a moment. They were still as statues, not even blinking.

Edward broke himself out of his stupor first. Giving Harry a soft kiss on his temple, he moved to answer the door.

The situation was grave. They had all known that a visit by the Volturi was imminent, but they had scarcely prepared for it – too focused were they on the threat of Victoria and her newborn army. And, yet, despite this, Edward could not stop himself from cursing their timing. Perhaps it sounded petty, but to him it was a most grievous transgression. He had just reunited with his Chosen, after an unthinkably long separation, and he was loath to dampen that in any way.

As much as he loved Harry, and would deny him nothing, Edward could not help but feel distressed by the struggles that his Chosen would now, doubtless, immerse himself in. And said struggles were not even his, but Edward's. In being a part of the Vampire's life once again, however, Harry would take it upon himself to help in any way that he could, fighting alongside him in any battles he may find himself in. Edward had absolutely no uncertainty in that regard. He only wished that he could remove Harry from any and every burden he would place on his shoulders. Strong-willed, courageous and compassionate as he was, though, the Vampire knew that he could do little more than lessen the load. His love's heart was much too big for him to simply remain uninvolved, but Edward would be damned if he allowed anyone to cause his Harry more pain. He, alone, had caused enough of that.

His ire well and truly raised by the time he reached the door, Edward wrenched it open, most likely with a murderous look upon his face. Taking a deep breath in order to stop himself from acting out stupidly, he greeted their _'guest'_ in a glacial tone.

"Demetri."

**/A\**

**Author's Note: **Okay, so that's Chapter Six! I am really worried about the interaction between Harry and Edward – I'm praying that I did it justice, but I'm just not sure… I hope everyone reading enjoyed this chapter, though.

Please leave me a review and let me know. Also, if you have any thoughts/constructive criticism regarding the Edward/Harry time – I'd be forever grateful if you'd give me feedback. Did I overdo the sap? Did any of it seem fake, or like they (or I) were trying too hard? Let me know… Thank you all! Mwahs!


	8. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying this fic, and especially to those who reviewed! I'm so grateful to you all. To Milisant Montgumry, Wolgang's Apprentice and Your Fan, seeing as I could not respond the usual way, I would just like to say that your reviews were wonderful to read – positive and inspiring :) And, in reply to Milisant Montgumry, I never had planned for this to be Mpreg – it is a possibility, of course, but I doubt I'll be changing my mind on that. And… that's about it :) On with the story…

**/A\**

_Do you know what's worth fighting for,  
__When it's not worth dying for?  
__Does it take your breath away  
__And you feel yourself suffocating?  
__Does the pain weigh out the pride?  
__And you look for a place to hide?  
__Did someone break your heart inside?  
__You're in ruins…  
__When you're at the end of the road  
__And you lost all sense of control  
__And your thoughts have taken their toll  
__When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul  
__Your faith walks on broken glass  
__And the hangover doesn't pass  
__Nothing's ever built to last  
__You're in ruins_

»Green Day – 21 Guns«

**/A\**

Chapter Seven:

He regained consciousness gasping, as though he were nearly drowned and now could not get enough oxygen. His eyes were hazy, like a thin milky film was drawn over them, and his throat was burning. For a short while his body felt too weak to do much more than seize up in coughing fits. His mind was so disoriented that, for that small time, he could not even remember his own name.

This caused a mini panic attack to take hold of him. Closing his eyes and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, the man got control enough of himself to at least calm his frantically beating heart. That done, he slowly opened his eyes once again, blinking a few times to rid himself of the haze, as well as adjust to the light, which seemed too harsh in that moment.

Once his vision cleared, he gingerly lifted himself into a sitting position. The aches riddling his body were slowly receding, though his muscles and joints still felt a bit stiff. Looking around, he carefully took in his surroundings. He seemed to be in the denser part of some woods. The dimness, as well as the uniformity of the setting, almost pressed in around him then, until the familiarity of the place dawned on the man.

He was at a burial ground – the sacred place of rest of his ancestors. Memory flooded him then. Black – his name was Jacob Black. He had made the solitary journey here, swimming from First Beach, so that he could complete his Spirit Quest. Quickly, Jake looked around again, this time to try and locate his great-great-grandfather, Ephraim Black. He was gone.

Jacob could still feel him, but in the same way he could feel all the spirits of his ancestors, now that he was sensitized to it and knew what he was feeling. Ephraim, though, was not with him as he had been on the entire Quest. The spirit of his great-great-grandfather had taken on the role of his Guide for his duration on James Island – which, now that he thought about it, Jake did not know how long that had been. His father had told him the Quest could take up to seven days, but time moved differently on such a journey.

Upon meeting his great-great-grandfather, he had discovered that the entire Spirit Quest had to be taken in spirit form. It was for this reason that the Quileute Alpha had been so disoriented and sore upon reawakening – it was the first time his spirit had been back in his body since he'd begun the Quest. And why had he rejoined so abruptly? There had been something – something vital – that had caused him to come back to himself so suddenly…

"Shit!" Jake swore, getting up immediately and tearing towards the shore. He had to get back to the Reservation, and he had to get there now!

Since he had basically nothing but the cut-off shorts that he wore, it saved him a lot of time and before long he was swimming for his life – or rather, the lives of his pack, his family. Despite that, however, he found himself silently cursing with every breath he had to take. He felt he could not move fast enough, as though the water were actively working against him, pulling him back as he struggled onward.

At last, he made it to the shore. Not even taking a minute to get himself steady, he was already sprinting, heading for the clearing the pack normally used to train. His mind was whirling, but at the same time Jacob had no coherent thoughts, except that he had to go faster, get there quicker. The pack was in grave danger and he would never forgive himself if any of them were lost.

Before the field even came into sight, the scent of blood was the first thing that hit him – blood mixed with the cloying stench of Vampires, along with another, familiar, smell that he couldn't quite place. How much blood had to have been shed for the smell to be so thick? It made Jake nauseous just to think on it. Putting the thoughts out of his head, he pushed himself forward, bursting into the clearing. The sight that met him stilled him completely, as if a thick layer of ice was spreading throughout his body, immobilizing his limbs, freezing his heart.

The large open field now looked like a war zone. There was blood and bodies lying, seemingly, everywhere. Every person he could see, prone on the ground, looked to be part of the pack. The attack seemed to have been reserved for them, and so it was likely that the rest of the tribe, at least, was safe – for now. Staring, for he could not help it even if he'd rather not look at all, he noted the deep gashes littered over each body and some even looked to have broken limbs. Jacob could see no movement coming from any of them; he refused to believe they were dead, however. They couldn't be dead. He wasn't too late. He wasn't.

And then he saw them.

Standing at the far end of the field, clearly basking in the destruction and pain they had brought about, stood a group of leeches. There were five of them, but it was the two at the head of the band, probably the leaders, that grabbed Jacob's attention. They were very young, robed Vampires, a boy and a girl, who looked no older than fifteen, and could have been related. The boy had a passive, almost bored look on his face, though his crimson eyes glinted maliciously. The girl was the one who was truly frightening, however. Her red eyes positively shone with sadistic glee, a wide and self-satisfied smirk on her lips; she looked exceptionally evil.

All five of these Vampires held onto thick, short leashes – two to each bloodsucker. At the ends of each harness was a monstrous looking wolf-like creature. Jacob could never mistake these for shape-shifters. They were taller, bulkier and far too inhumanly nasty. They were growling, snapping their jaws and looking as though they just wanted more and more to rip into, to kill. Jake could not understand how the wolves could possibly be so malevolent (perhaps the bloodsuckers had done something to them, poisoned them somehow), but that was not what baffled him the most. Even considering how genuinely evil the wolves looked, the Quileute native could not fathom why they were siding with the Vampires. Wolves, any kind, were the sworn enemies of leeches. That was the way it had always been. So why was it that these wolf-like beasts were fighting for the Vampires, killing for them? And even more incomprehensible was the fact that they were killing their kin – for surely all wolves, especially the supernatural kind, were related somehow.

Jake did not know, but right now, with his family hurt (and possibly dead, though he tried not to think it), it did not matter. Nothing mattered but the destruction of the threat.

Lightning ripped through the sky and a massive clap of thunder rent the air, effectively bringing the Alpha out of his frozen, trance-like state. As the heavens opened to allow the heavy downpour, Jacob immediately began to shake – shake from despair, from fear, but most of all from anger. Rage ate at him like acid eating through his flesh. To come onto his territory, to come to _his home_ and to harm _his people_ – it was too much, and more. The wolf rose in him as if on a tidal wave, and he let it. Where normally phasing felt like a mere shift from one form into another, this time Jacob felt as though he burst out of his skin. So quick was the transformation, that he found he was growling menacingly before his front paws even touched the ground.

The girl Vampire, finally having noticed him, turned in his direction now with a cruel smile on her face – no doubt ecstatic at the chance to cause more pain. Something in his demeanor must have registered with her though, as the expression faltered for a moment, her gaze becoming more calculating. Her companion, having seen Jake as well, looked to her in question, wanting to know the course of action, no doubt. She gave some or other signal and, as one, each of the Vampires released a clasp on his or her leash. The wolf-monsters were now free, roaring and snarling, tearing towards Jacob. The Alpha felt no fear watching them approach; instinctually, he knew that they would not touch him.

Taking a threatening step forward, then another, the intense emotion (hurt, worry, anger, hope, love) built up inside of him with his every movement. As this reached its pinnacle, to the point where he felt certain he would explode, or go insane, the Quileute leader let out a piercing howl.

The sound was so raw, so primal, that it seemed to cut through every living thing within hearing range – a range that was extensive considering the volume of the bay. For endless seconds, Jacob howled, pouring everything he had into it. When the first ended, another howl tore out of him. It was almost involuntary. And as he continued, something strange, yet oddly familiar and _right_, began to happen around him.

Jake could feel the woods coming alive the deeper into himself, into his nature he dived. The earth seemed to rumble beneath his paws; the trees swayed towards him, as though they would bow in greeting. The Alpha could feel every form of natural life stand at attention, like his howl were some sort of call to each of them.

And as he continued, Jacob felt as though he were growing, expanding to gigantic proportions, while, in reality, remaining the same size.

The most bizarre thing, however, was how the wolf-beasts reacted to him once he began to howl. At the first sound, they seemed to freeze in their tracks, uncertainty rolling off of them in waves. Some even bent their front legs, their heads bowing to the ground and whimpers of fear or deference, or both, escaping from them.

By the second of Jake's bays they seemed to have had enough, and every single one of them took off, pelting through the woods, escaping at insane speeds. Caught up in what was happening to him internally, and what he was feeling from nature itself, the Alpha was not even phased by this. The Vampires, though, were another story.

Coming back to himself, Jacob fell silent and finally focused on the leeches facing him. They had frozen as well, watching him in what was clearly utter disbelief. They all seemed to have barely spared the fleeing beasts a glance, instead keeping most of their attention on Jake. From the look of it, they did not know what to make of him then, or just how big a threat he really was.

One of the Vampires, however, seemed not to take this into consideration and crouched as though he would attack. This didn't really surprise Jacob; the bloodsucker appeared to be the overly aggressive type. He had cropped black hair and an odd chalky olive complexion. He was a hulking mass, tall with broad shoulders and heavily muscled, that had a certain look about him – like he got the biggest thrills out of fighting. Jake didn't mind; he would gladly take on any of them, all if he could.

The girl leader stopped him, though, by raising her hand. She kept her eyes, sharp as darts, trained on Jacob, however. Communicating with the other leeches, though Jacob could barely see her lips moving, she obviously told them to retreat as, before she even finished, they all began to back up towards the trees. With a last calculating look, they all turned and were gone.

The threat now out of the way, and the adrenaline fading from his veins, Jake could fully appreciate the devastation wrought by the Vampires and their monsters. Shifting with a whimper, he crawled on his hands and knees to the nearest pack victim, caring nothing for his nudity at that moment.

Embry.

His friend looked way too pale and way too weak for his liking. The rain was mixing in with his blood, tiny rivulets making their way down his frame. Along with the slashes on his arms and chest, it looked as though his leg was broken as well. Why wasn't he healing?

Jake's chest tightened almost unbearably. He did not know whether what he wanted to do more – rage at the heavens or cry out in absolute hopelessness. The young man knew, right then, that he would have broken down and given in to his despair. He would have, if not for the warm hand that settled on his shoulder – gentle, yet strong – and the warmer voice that spoke to him softly, even through her own tears.

"S-Seth," Bella stuttered, her voice raspy from crying. She paused to clear her throat and steady her voice before continuing. "Seth left not too long before you came back, Jake. He's gone to get Dr Cullen. They will be saved, Jacob – we won't lose anyone. You have to believe that! Don't lose hope."

Jake heard the _yet_ even though Bella didn't say it out loud. He shook the thought from his mind, however. She was right. They couldn't lose hope; they'd fight. They'd fight and they'd win. He couldn't even bring himself to care that they were turning to Vampires for help, even if Vampires had had a hand in causing this to begin with. For all that he butted heads with the Cullens, Jacob knew that they were not the same; the doctor proved that time and time again. And besides, he was not about to turn down any help that could end up saving his family. Jacob would put his faith, unreal though that was, in the Vampire doctor – and he had better come through.

The pack's survival depended on it.

**A…A**

"Good day, Edward."

Demetri's greeting was not nearly as cold as Edward's. In fact, it was fairly dismissive. This irked the young Vampire even more than he had been. Prior to this, Edward had never had any particular thoughts regarding Demetri. The Volturi guard had the dark hair and olive skin tone that was typical of any Italian, though he obviously had pallor due to his vampirism. He was as tall as Edward, perhaps a bit taller, and was almost as lean. While the Cullen heir had never been especially antagonistic toward Demetri, who had always been in the background where the Volturi were concerned, strong yet silent, Edward was now changing that perception – out of petulance more than anything.

Before he could respond, however, the member of the Volturi guard looked passed him, over his shoulder, seemingly searching out someone in particular. He then, having presumably found whoever it was, ducked around him into the house – without even an invitation. No one reacted and soon they were too shocked to be able to.

Demetri had stopped directly in front of Harry (the familiarity between the two of them plain for all to see), and dropped to his left knee, his head bowed.

"My Prince," he said softly, his tone and his demeanor both reverent.

The acknowledgement, while straightforward, cast the Cullen family into stunned stillness. The surprise only heightened as Harry responded, as though this was a common custom to him.

"Demetri," he replied, his voice welcoming as he touched his hands to the guard's shoulders, allowing him to rise.

Edward remained motionless as his mind reeled, clouded with confusion. How did his mate and Demetri know each other? Did Harry not know who the Italian Vampire worked for? Had the Volturi somehow blinded his beloved to their ways, their deeds? He did not know, and the very realization prickled his skin. Closing the door, he turned fully to pay attention to the events now unfolding.

"It's all right," Harry said, addressing everyone present but focusing on Edward in particular. Clearly, he had noticed the rising tension in the room due to Demetri's presence. "Demetri means none of you any harm, I swear it."

His eyes were soft, his tone gentle and a small smile played on his lips. Edward was hard pressed not to believe him on the spot, but too much had passed between the Volturi and the Cullens (and him specifically) to simply let it go.

"He is one of the Volturi's guards," said Rosalie scathingly, keeping her eyes, so like ice darts, trained on Demetri. "I can assure you – they mean us great harm, and more."

"Officially, yes," Harry replied, placating, "he is a member of the Italian coven's reinforcement. He will not hurt you, though; that is not where his loyalty truly lies."

"What do you mean?" asked Edward quietly, coming to stand next to Harry, as close as he could get away with. He did place one hand on the small of his Chosen's back, though, needing the contact. By the shine in Harry's eyes, and the smile upon his face, he was not opposed to this either.

Edward returned the smile, for there really was no way he could not, but it was muted. There was so much that Edward did not know about Harry now, so very much he had missed out on, that his curiosity of his Chosen's life almost won out over his concern for his family. Almost.

"Demetri is… something of a double agent," was the unanticipated answer given by Harry.

There was silence for a moment as this new information was taken in. The statement, while simple, raised a whole lot more questions than answers for the Cullen unit, however. When Edward next spoke, it was with caution, voicing the suspicions felt by himself as well as a number of his family, as he garnered from their thoughts.

"He would have joined the Volturi long before you were born, though. How can you be absolutely certain about his loyalties, my love?"

"In part," Harry began slowly, speaking to all but, once more, keeping his eyes on Edward, "due to my own magic. But mostly because of Hermione, one of my closest confidants."

"Magic?" Emmett cut in suddenly, not able to help himself. "As in… _magic_?"

Harry smiled, amused. "Indeed."

Edward, having received all of his memories, was not surprised by this declaration from his mate. He was well aware of the bulk of Harry's abilities. As for the rest of his family, however, they would have a much more difficult time believing. A single recollection was playing through each of their minds just then, though – that of the feat achieved by Angela and Jessica against a newborn Vampire. Angela had actually slowed the Vampire down, without even touching him; she had created fire out of thin air, and not to mention Jessica actually fighting off the newborn, single-handedly. Considering that, the bronze-haired Vampire thought that it might not take much more to convince them.

"How is it that your… _magic_ was able to determine Demetri's trustworthiness?" asked Jasper, his tone business-like, not willing to be distracted from the important issues at hand – though Edward was certain of his curiosity, even through the empath's doubt.

"Magic can be focused to do many things," Harry explained, no doubt reciting from memory. "I was able to develop the skill of Mind Magic and made use of that to ascertain Demetri's reliability. In short, with his permission, I entered his mind to 'see' for myself, you could say. It is similar to what Edward is able to do, but more concentrated and more extensive, if done correctly and with enough aptitude."

"And you are able to do this with anyone?" asked Carlisle, clearly intrigued.

"Yes, as far as I can tell – I usually require eye contact, however. Although, you should know, I never enter anyone's mind unless expressly permitted, save for truly extreme cases."

"There is the possibility that he was able to hide what he wished not to show you, though," said Jasper, his suspicion still evident.

He was thinking of Bella as he voiced his misgiving, and Edward had to agree with him in that regard. Bella had the ability to block her thoughts from Edward's gift, and no one could understand why. This had been the initial reason that he had been so drawn to her – he had believed, at the time, that she was the first and only person able to do this. He realized now, however, that he probably only felt such a strong pull to her due to Harry, the fact that Harry's mind had always been closed off to him as well. Her latent ability was an indirect link to his Chosen.

"Which is why I still had my doubts, even after entering Demetri's mind," Harry agreed, his reply bringing Edward's mind out of its musings. "Those were only put to rest because of Hermione; once she confirmed the truth, I was completely certain."

"Why?" asked Edward simply.

"Hermione's gift," Harry replied. "It is truly extraordinary – it is the gift of knowledge. A single touch – skin contact – allows her to know absolutely everything about a person: their past, their desires, hopes, dreams, fears, their strengths, weaknesses, and even their emotions. There is no way to block Hermione. Demetri allowed her the contact, which then led to the affirming of his loyalty."

"Everything…?" Carlisle breathed out, more fascinated than troubled, though only just.

The awe radiating through everyone in that moment was almost tangible. That, however, was tempered by the unease that such a gift brought about – a gift that could render one vulnerable in the most profound sort of way. It could be, if abused, so much more invasive, so much more insidious, than what Edward could do in reading private thoughts, and not least of all because there was no way to oppose it. The young Vampire, though, had known Hermione well, once. Provided that she had not changed much since (and he did not think that she did, given that Harry still held her in high regard), Edward truly believed that she would take the greatest care with her ability – more than anyone else, bar Harry, would.

"Yes," Harry said, answering Carlisle's unconscious query, a fond smile lighting his features. "She cannot read minds, as such, but that matters little when one can know the drive behind the thoughts. It distressed her greatly when she first discovered her ability – she did not like the fact that she could invade people's privacy so totally. She takes certain measures to ensure she does not accidentally do so, however; she only ever uses her gift if she absolutely must. It is something of a last resort."

Many of the family still looked shaken, particularly Jasper, who could understand how such a weapon could be fully utilized in a war situation. Attempting, with great effort, to avoid thinking of either Harry or Hermione as the enemy, yet, Jasper brought himself back to the current circumstances. Edward was grateful.

"All right," he said, his voice even once more. "Let us say, for now, that we are just as certain of Demetri's true loyalty – which would be to you, specifically, I assume. Why is it that Demetri is here then? We had guessed he was here on a particular errand for the Volturi."

Jasper looked appraisingly at the Volturi guard as he voiced the question, his gaze penetrating, though closed off to his own emotions. He, along with many present, was not quite ready to accept Demetri's integrity. Edward was warmed greatly, however, when he noted that his family was willing to put some faith, at least, in Harry – if only because of what he meant to the Cullen heir. Putting such thoughts and feelings aside for the moment, Edward focused his attention on Demetri as well. He might not have been as apprehensive as the rest of his family, considering his Chosen's assurances, but he was vastly curious as to this new knowledge being brought to light.

Throughout the conversation, the Italian Vampire had remained silent, allowing Harry to answer all the queries, content to be spoken for – not out of arrogance, Edward was aware, but out of purest trust and deference. This intrigued Edward to no end, but he let it rest – for now.

Demetri turned to face Harry, choosing to address him directly as he was clearly who he had come to see, and, apparently, who he answered to.

"I am afraid your suspicions, Lord Potter, are founded," he said, his tone soft but solemn. "The secret of the shape-shifters is no longer secret – it is now known that the Quileute pack will side with the Cullens in the upcoming attack."

Harry hissed in agitation. "So, it is true, then," he said, his voice venomous and his eyes sharp. "We have a mole."

"Unless the Volturi decides to attack us," Rosalie cut in, her eyes narrowing dangerously, "the only 'upcoming attack' would be the one by Victoria and her newborn army."

"That means," continued Jasper, his tone low and angry, "that the Volturi are aware of what Victoria has been up to in Seattle, and have allowed it to happen. They wish to see us devastated!"

"Or at the very least weakened," agreed Edward, just as enraged. "We will no longer be a threat to them then."

"It runs much deeper than that, I'm afraid," said Harry, his tone almost mournful.

"It was at the suggestion of the Volturi," Demetri put in, now focusing his attention on all present, his voice neutral, "that Victoria went ahead with the idea of creating the newborn army to begin with."

"_What_?" Rosalie burst out, incensed.

"How can that be?" asked Carlisle, clearly at a loss. "Even if we are considered a threat, due to our size and Edward, Alice and Jasper's gifts, that seems too extreme an action to take. Would they really go through such trouble for one coven?"

"No," Harry replied simply, probably maintaining control in order that the family may calm themselves in turn. "Like I said, it's much deeper than that, much more complex. These actions are being taken by the Volturi, yes, but not _for_ the Volturi. The Italian coven has become, merely, the most easily accessible means to an end. They are being controlled, like puppets on strings."

"_How_?" asked Carlisle unbelievingly. "How is that possible? The coven itself may not be that large, but the guard is _immense _and their gifts considerable! I… this is inconceivable."

"I can understand how you would think so," Harry agreed, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "It really isn't, though – not for him."

"Him?" asked Alice, her eyes widening almost comically. "As in singular?"

"Oh, he has followers," Harry replied, his casual tone not hiding the bitterness in his eyes, or the hurt that Edward alone could see. "He has plenty of minions willingly doing his bidding, and many unwillingly as well. The actual conquest of the Volturi coven, however, was completed by only one Vampire – the only being I know, in the entire world, capable of such a thing."

"Who?" asked Jasper directly, consciously refusing to allow the weight of Harry's words to defeat him – not before he's had a chance to at least fight back. For now, he focused on gaining knowledge of this new, grand-seeming threat; 'know thy enemy' was a code the empath tended to live by.

"The very same being I've been investigating in depth, yet staying hidden from these past seventy-three years," said Harry, his eyes taking on a far-away look, his intense emotions evident even in his voice. "The very same being who, I believe, is responsible for the darkness encroaching on the earth, a little more everyday, taking over."

He paused here, turning to look Edward directly in the eyes, conveying his meaning.

"The very same being," he continued quietly, plainly pained, "who, I now know, is responsible for the memory loss Edward has had to endure all this time."

Edward's eyes widened slightly, even as he clenched his jaw and his fists, comprehension dawning on him.

"Who?" Esme whispered anxiously, for this was the answer she truly wanted – the reason for her son's long and deep suffering, implicit as it may have been.

And it was Edward who answered, his voice tight with rage and deepest betrayal.

"Albus Dumbledore."

**A…A**

The revelation was met by silence.

No one present, Harry saw, apart from himself and Edward, could comprehend the weight of this information, but everyone could feel it. He and is Chosen simply gazed at one another for a time, sharing the hurt, anger and betrayal they both felt – though these were much more pronounced in Harry. And while Edward could also understand, more clearly, the value of the struggle that lay ahead of them all, the sheer immensity of the true threat was something that only Harry had any real knowledge of. Disclosing all the relevant information, however, and in a way that the significance would not be lost on anyone, would be the difficult part.

"Albus Dumbledore?" asked Carlisle in a soft tone, his confusion only escalating. "I have only ever heard stories of him… but isn't he…?"

"The advocator of all that is good and right?" Harry said, knowing and finishing the Cullen head's question. His voice, he knew, was full of disappointment underlying the sarcasm and resentment. "He used to be. He used to be the very beacon of light in our world, among varied species of supernatural beings. But even angels can fall, can they not, Dr Cullen?"

He felt a thin layer of tears form over his eyes, which he refused to let on to the others, when he finally looked up at Carlisle – and, indeed, no one would know them for tears but Edward. The Vampire was at his side in less than a second, wrapping an arm around him and offering his presence as silent comfort. He would know that it cost Harry a lot to have to face his loss, his pain; he would also know, beyond any doubt, that it was not something that Harry would run from. He would endure, as he always did.

"Indeed," breathed Carlisle in answer to Harry's query, rhetorical though it may have been. Compassionate as Edward had always said he was, the doctor seemed to realize that Harry was far more affected than he cared to show. He placed he strong hand upon his shoulder, squeezing lightly to offer comfort and support, as much as he could.

"How, though?" Carlisle asked then, after a moment of silence. "Why?"

"Because some burdens are simply too heavy to bear," Harry answered quietly, his mind far away. "Especially for thousands of years."

"But how was he able to take away Edward's memories?" asked Esme apprehensively. She seemed almost afraid of the answer, but stood strong, needing to know regardless. "How could he possibly make him forget so much of his life, and such life-altering experiences at that?"

"Dumbledore, too, has a gift," said Harry, keeping his voice as steady as he could, in the face of the reminder of all that was stolen from him and Edward both. "He can… alter memories. He cannot remove them entirely, but he can suppress them. He can even insert false memories into one's mind, making them remember things that had never happened."

In some ways, the description of Dumbledore's ability seemed far more horrific to the family than even Hermione's. This was probably because of the fact that they know knew Dumbledore to be the enemy. It would also be worse, Harry supposed, due to being affected more personally by his gift already, through the incident that had taken place with Edward.

"But who exactly _is_ this Vampire that you speak of?" asked Rosalie suddenly, tiring quickly of being kept in the dark.

"Dumbledore," Harry replied again, glad to bring himself back under control by speaking only hard facts, "is one of the eldest Vampires in existence, having been turned some seven thousand years ago."

"_Seven thousand_!" gasped Alice and Esme in unison as shock radiated throughout the Cullen's living room for the umpteenth time.

"Being that old, however," put in Emmett then, his brows furrowing, "would make him quite weak now, wouldn't it?"

Harry smiled and the expression was so sharp, and so cold, that it seemed to leach the warmth from the very air.

"Quite the opposite, actually," he answered, his tone inflectionless. "While that would be true for New Generation Vampires, such as you and your family, things do not work the same way for an Ancient, such as Dumbledore."

"New Generation…?" asked Emmett, puzzled.

"We, Vampires, have not always been as we are now," Carlisle replied, also seeming relieved to turn the conversation in a more academic direction. "Vampires as we are are known as New Generation Vampires. We are evolved from the Ancients – the very first kind of Vampire, our origin."

At this discovery, many of the Cullen family looked incredulous; this probably went against what they had ever believed of Vampires to be true. The world, doubtless, seemed to keep changing around them, twisting and turning with every new fact learned, or stumbled upon, and once again it took a long moment before their feet seemed to stabilize. Edward, of course, was the exclusion, considering he had learned of these things in the time he had spent with Harry decades ago.

Jasper, too, had more confusion on his face than shock, however. He seemed to be applying this information to things in his memories from his own past, only now coming to realize and account for certain things he's encountered, whatever they may be.

"I think," he began slowly, his mind still somewhat in the past, "that I may have come across these Ancients before. At least, that is what they might have been. They were beings so very like Vampires, yet so unlike me – I never knew, though…. But how is it possible? We are _undead_, are we not? We do not grow physically, clearly… so how is it that we can evolve?"

"It is a common misinterpretation," Harry answered lightly, wanting to ease them into the truth as much as he could. "When referred to as 'undead' or the 'living dead', most would understand Vampires to be walking corpses, to put it simply. You are not, however. You are thought of as undead because of the nature of the transformation; you have to, technically, die in order to change. Despite that, you are a species, one of the many that make up supernatural kind. And like any species, you evolve. As for remaining physically static, it is not so much a matter of remaining frozen in time – romantic as that notion is – it is more a matter of regeneration."

"Like how we manage to heal so quickly?" asked Esme, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"Yes," said Harry with a small smile. "That ability is due to the regeneration that I speak of. The Vampire body is in a state of constant rejuvenation, and at speeds that few other beings can match. This is why it _seems_ as though you never develop physically, and also part of the reason for your near immortality."

"So…" said Emmett slowly, a child-like grin making its way onto his face, "what you're saying is that we're more like Wolverine, from the X-Men?"

Rosalie huffed at her mate's juvenile comparison, rolling her eyes, but Harry chuckled.

"Exactly," he replied, returning the grin. "You are very similar to Wolverine, yes. That's actually quite an uncomplicated way of understanding it."

"Thank you, thank you," said Emmett in a tone of mock-modesty, taking a bow as he did.

Light as the atmosphere had become, and as welcome as that change was, it could not last; too soon, the conversation slowly began to turn back to the original issues.

"So, what does that mean for us now?" asked Jasper, easily adopting his soldier's manner once more. "What are the major differences between us and the Ancients?"

"Well," Harry responded, aligning his thoughts to answer as factually as he could, "every supernatural being has innate magic, which varies depending on the species they belong to. In Vampires, the Ancients are stronger in their magic, while the New Generation Vampires tend to be stronger physically. For example, your skin is as tough as diamonds, making you very difficult to injure, and when you strike out there tends to be more force behind the blow. Whereas with the Ancients, their minds are better protected because of the magic they have advanced access to, and they have the ability to alter the cadence of the atmosphere around them, thereby more easily controlling their prey or certain attackers.

"Another important difference is that, while you start off physically stronger, you weaken over time. Ancients are the opposite: while they do have supernatural strength as well, they are weaker than you, physically, in the beginning, but they only strengthen over time. What this all means for us now," Harry then finished, coming full circle, "considering his age and that he has been growing stronger for all that time, together with his mind, and his experience and knowledge, Dumbledore is the most formidable foe the world has ever faced."

"The world?" asked Alice, her voice small as she tried to comprehend a threat so great.

"For a long time now, Dumbledore has been causing waves throughout the supernatural world," Harry answered gravely, keeping his voice clinical so as not to get too emotional. "He has been making subtle attacks on families, covens, packs – on all those, basically, who he expects opposition from, people who he believes will hinder his plans."

"But what plans does he have?" asked Emmett, already on edge due to the anticipation of an upcoming fight – though woefully unaware of just how large a problem they all faced. "World domination?"

Rosalie scoffed, but not in disagreement. "How cliché," she stated, her tone unimpressed, though Harry could detect the underlying unrest.

"It is," agreed Harry, attempting a smile that he was not certain he managed. "Except that the domination is not his primary objective – at least, we believe that it isn't. The one thing everyone should always remember about Dumbledore: nothing is as it seems. There is always an ulterior motive, always a hidden agenda. So, yes, on the surface it does seem as though he is seeking unilateral control over the Supernatural world, if not the world entirely. There's more to it, though – I _know_ there's more. World domination is too… _impersonal_ a goal for Dumbledore."

"So what _is_ his main intent?" asked Jasper who, by the look on his face, was clearly wondering what could possibly be _more_.

As Harry was about to answer this crucial question, however, Edward turned abruptly to face the glass doors of the back entrance of the house, his expression one of concentration and concern.

"Edward?" Alice asked, puzzled and glancing in the same direction, trying to see what caught her brother's attention. "What is it?"

"Seth Clearwater," he replied, his tone just as confused, but more urgent as well. "Something has happened down at the Reservation – an attack."

"Vampires?" asked Jasper, getting to his feet as well as his entire demeanor shifted to that of a soldier. Harry, too, rose from his seat. The anxiousness was evident in them all.

"Yes… but there's more to it…" Edward began to answer, but his voice slowly trailed off.

Everyone turned to face the back now, watching as a young, extremely tall native pelted out of the cover of the surrounding woods, and towards the house. He was soaking wet from the storm (that the Cullens had barely noticed begin to fall), and his bare feet slipped now and then on the mud and wet rocks, but he did not fall and he did not slow.

"Help!" he shouted when he was not too far from the sliding doors. He stopped short of actually entering though.

His was breathing heavily, though more from fear than exertion – which both Edward and Jasper would have been aware of acutely. His eyes were as wide as saucers and his fists were clenched. Even though the panic was rolling off of him in waves, Harry could tell that the cause lay elsewhere; the boy cared nothing for the fact that he was a lone shape-shifter surrounded by Vampires. His terror was due to something else, something much more profound and personal.

"Dr Cullen!" he called out, his eyes seeking the one he felt could help him now. "Dr Cullen, please, I need you to come with me! I need your help – _we_ need you now!"

Carlisle stepped forward, not hesitating in the least.

"What has happened, Seth?" he asked directly, his voice deliberately even. "I need you to slow down and tell me what we're dealing with."

"I don't know!" Seth wailed desperately, his eyes tearing, though he blinked them away impatiently. "There were Vampires, but there was something else also. They used some other kind of beasts to attack us. They came so suddenly! We tried to fight them, to stop them…. There must have only been half as many of them as there are in our pack, but…."

He paused here, suffering under the weight of his emotions, most blatantly fear. Edward stilled as well, in all likelihood recognizing the beasts that Seth spoke of through his thoughts on them. But then the Quileute boy was speaking again, and he could not confirm his presumption.

"They hurt _everyone_!" he cried out, as though he was the one suffering physical injury. "Every single member of the pack is hurt! I don't know what to do! Please!"

"All right," Carlisle placated, though he was alarmed at the information he had just received.

Harry could understand why.

What Vampires were attacking the Quileute? As far as everyone knew, only the Cullens were aware of the current pack. And what could possibly take down the entire wolf-pack, and in one go? The pack was thirteen-strong the last time they had met – there was, in all probability, even more shifters now. What were the Vampires using that was strong enough, destructive enough, to cause such devastation? And why were Vampires using other creatures at all, when they were predators themselves?

These were, no doubt, the questions running through the Vampire family's minds. They were not used to putting these kinds of puzzles together, as he was. Their lives had been relatively safe and sheltered up until now. Looking around, Harry noted the trepidation on everyone else's faces, confirming his theory.

Rosalie's jaw was clenched, but her eyes clearly showed how disturbed she truly was; Emmett's face was set, his muscles bunched, as though the fight were coming to him – aggression he could handle, but apprehension was something else; Alice and Esme's eyes were both wide, with Esme covering her mouth with her hands in worry; Jasper was standing stiffly, the gears in his mind, certainly, turning at great speed as he attempted to figure out an unknown threat; and Edward… Edward stood with his fists and jaw clenched. Meeting Harry's eyes, the young being saw that his Chosen, at least, seemed to understand better. This was his advantage, having been exposed to much more than the rest of his family has, since meeting Harry and living in his world. That, and the fact that he was a telepath.

As soon as Harry had heard of the attack, his mind immediately went to the news brought to him by Demetri. He looked to the Italian Vampire now, seeking confirmation.

"The Volturi," Demetri nodded, his expression and tone both weighty. "They – or he – must have ordered the attack after I had departed, but it is almost certainly them."

Harry nodded once. "You should get back to Italy, Demetri. This was merely supposed to be a reconnaissance assignment for you, yes? Head back to Volterra; tell them as little as possible. Avoid allowing Aro to read you, without causing suspicion, as much as you can. If he insists, however, you will be fine. From what I can tell, your shields are still strong since I last reinforced them."

With a nod, Demetri turned and left as told. As soon as he was gone, Harry turned immediately back to the boy, Seth. He, and the pack, was the highest priority – they'd have time to dissect the rhyme and reason later.

Thinking along the same lines, it appeared, Carlisle too put aside his perpetual surprise and all of his questions.

"All right, Seth," Carlisle said once more, focusing his mind. "Considering the fact that the damage is so great, I'm going to need all the help I can get. Is the rest of my family allowed as well?"

"Yes!" Seth said without hesitation. "Anything – everyone – whatever you need, just please…. Please save them!"

With no more needing to be said, Carlisle raced up the staircase to get all the supplies he would need, Esme, Alice and Rosalie going with him to help in any way they could. That done, every one of them rushed out of the house and into the pouring rain, making their way to La Push.

Harry stopped just before entering the wooded area; he needed to contact Hermione and let her know the latest, and to ask her to aid them as well. He noticed that Edward pause also, waiting on him as was his way where Harry was concerned. Knowing this, he did not query the act. He, instead, closed his eyes and concentrated intensely.

A silvery mist came into existence then, not too far away from where he stood. Though he could not see it, keeping his eyes firmly shut, he knew that the mist (which would positively glow with some intrinsic light) had begun to take shape and solidify. Before long, by the time Harry reopened his eyes, a very real looking stag stood where the mist once was, but for the fact that is was pure white and larger than any other ever seen in actuality.

Reaching up, Harry gently stroked the neck of the animal. It lowered its head, leaning into the touch.

"Get Hermione," he told the stag, his tone low but urgent. "Tell her to go down to the Reservation. There's been an attack on the shifters. The Volturi."

Tossing its head, the animal leaped to its hind legs before turning and seemingly flying through the air, doing as it was told. With that, Harry turned to face Edward, nodding that they could now leave as well.

As they ran, Edward spoke.

"I've seen that before," he said, gazing at Harry in wonderment before looking ahead once again. "What is it?"

"The Elders call it a Patronus," Harry answered, easily keeping up with the Vampire. "Where have you seen one?"

"Not any one, love – that _one_ in particular. That stag is one of the reasons I managed to save you, the day you were trapped in the Room of Requirement."

"It came to you?"

Harry's tone held wonder and confusion, his brows furrowing.

"I did send my Patronus out, to let someone, anyone, know that the Horcrux was destroyed and to… to continue without me."

Edward growled at that, but Harry continued before he could respond.

"I did not send it to anyone specific, though. I wonder if you were the first person it came across or if it sought you out exclusively."

The Vampire chuckled as a stray thought crossed his mind.

"You should have Hermione research it. Doubtless, she would be ecstatic at learning something new."

Harry laughed as well, and did not miss the look of joy and peace that crossed Edward's face. He understood. The moment they shared now may seem small to an outsider, but had been deprived of such times, such richness for so long.

"Indeed, she would," he replied quietly. "Some things don't change."

Harry would have loved simply conversing more with his beloved, but just then the treaty line, separating the Reservation from the land freely traversed by the Cullens, came into view. He and Edward must not have been too far behind, he noted, as the rest of his mate's family were just at the border. On the other side stood Jacob, his arm wrapped tightly around a distraught girl (who Harry recognized as Chief Swan's daughter), her eyes over-bright with unshed tears. She seemed to be holding herself together admirably, however.

For some reason, Edward hesitated upon seeing them; the gesture was so quick, though, that only Harry would have noticed it. He glanced at his Chosen questioningly, wondering what caused the reaction since the Vampire was familiar with them. Edward merely shook his head infinitesimally, signaling that he would explain later. From the look on his face, this was to be information that was necessary, and so Harry would hold him to it. Putting his curiosity aside for now, however, he turned his attention to the current proceedings.

"I'll allow the Cullen family access to the Quileute Reservation, considering the nature of the circumstances," Jacob was saying as Harry and Edward joined said family at the line. "You should note, however, that the Treaty remains in place, and will hold as it has in the past. We must ensure our people's safety."

"We understand," Carlisle replied, speaking for his kin as Sire. "We also agree."

Jacob nodded once, no hint of a smile evident, though no antagonism whatsoever, as well. The situation must indeed be severe. With that, he made his way over to his car, Bella going with him, but not before giving Harry a look of surprised recognition. She must remember him from the day he had gone to visit Charlie at his home. He wondered if the Chief had followed through on his assertion to tell Bella of her true heritage. Harry sighed. They had so very much to work through yet, and time was of the essence.

As Jacob started up his car, Harry and the Cullens were already running at breakneck speeds to the field where the clash had occurred, following Seth (now in wolf form).

A number of gasps were issued upon their arrival – it could not be helped.

The site they were now standing on the edge of could hardly be seen as anything but a battlefield. While the injured had all been moved out of the storm, the ground itself was muddy from the rain, still intermingled with some blood – though that could only be seen, and smelt, by those supernatural in nature. The rain had not yet managed to wash everything away and, from that alone, Harry could tell that quite a lot of blood must have been shed; not one pack member had been left unscathed, apart from Seth (who had come to seek Carlisle's help) and Jacob (who he had a theory about as to why that was).

Looking around, he noted deep gouges in the earth that the rain and sludge had not yet covered up. There familiarity about them caused Harry to snarl under his breath. He knew those marks. Even if he did not, however, he would still know the source of them based on the aura still permeating the air like thick, smoke. The question of 'what' was obviously on everyone else's mind, though, and Harry deigned to put their unawareness to rest.

"Lycans," he said gravely, examining the combat zone further with a trained eye – more trained than all else present, he realized.

No more could be queried or clarified at that moment, however; the care of the wounded was paramount. Moving forward, he and the Cullens soon caught up with Seth, who had not stopped as they had.

They all came across a sizeable wooden gazebo-like structure, situated at the far end of the large clearing. The construction consisted of a raised dais, pentagonal in shape, with five pillars set into each point of the pentagon, which held up the roof. There were no walls, causing the covered area to be as wet as if there were no top at all, due to the buffeting winds.

Make-shift cots were set up over the entire floor. Harry counted eighteen wounded in total, all members of the pack it seemed. They had all shifted back into their human forms, though, so it would be easier to treat them.

Setting his supplies aside, Carlisle moved quickly from one native to the next, checking and cataloguing all their severe injuries. Harry went with him since he, at least, had knowledge of the beasts and could help more significantly than the rest.

"They did not seem to use much venom," he said after checking over everyone. "It seems only two of the eighteen were infected with it."

After confirming with Jacob, who stood to one side with Bella, his arms folded and a tense but held-together look on his face, those two turned out to be Paul (who was allegedly the most aggressive fighter) and Sam (who, apart from Jacob, was the largest wolf).

"Incapacitate, if not kill, the biggest threats first," said Jasper grimly, nodding his head. "It is one of the most common survival tactics."

"Harry!" a new voice suddenly called out.

Rushing into the shelter just then was a girl none present but Harry and Edward would recognize – Hermione Granger. There were now, of course, significant changes to her being and appearance, where Edward's visual of her was concerned; it would not be difficult in the least for him to identify her, however.

Her slim five-foot, seven inch frame was the same, if a bit stronger than it had been. Her chocolate brown curls were sleeker, but just as thick as ever. Her complexion, as seen in her heart-shaped face (the only part of her visible), was paler as well as smoother. The rosy flush no longer tinted her cheeks, which were still rather cherubic, but this was complimented by her dark red lips, the bottom of which had always been a little fuller than the top. By the look in her warm eyes, though (the same deep brown as in her human days), she was still the same Hermione.

Harry allowed himself a small smile at that, mirrored by Edward, he saw, before the Vampire continued with the task at hand – that of stitching up the most severe lacerations on Embry Call, one of the shape-shifters whose care he was entrusted with. Reunions would have to wait for now.

"Hermione," Harry answered, gesturing to the cots all around them. "You made it. We need as many skilled hands as we can get, as you can see. Carlisle and I are taking care of Paul and Sam – they were the only two infected with the Lycans venom. Quite a few bones need to be reset. All of them suffered at least one severe gash that needs attention, however. That's how most of the blood was lost."

"And transfusions aren't possible with shape-shifters," Hermione said seriously, nodding her understanding. "Patching up seems to be the best course and then, perhaps, a healing spell?"

Harry nodded his concord. "Yes. I'll merely speed up their bodies' natural blood replenishing process so that their own fast healing ability can take over."

"I think," Edward put in then, a thoughtful look crossing his face, "that a transfusion would be possible for one shifter, at least."

He looked to Seth then, before glancing at Leah. Seth spoke before Carlisle could even enquire.

"Yes," he said emphatically. "Anything you need, yes."

"I'd have to test for the blood type," Carlisle said carefully, not wanting to get ahead of himself. "Unless, of course, you already know."

"We're the same type," Seth responded quickly, then slowed down when he got a cautious look from the doctor. "We are. We've always known – my mom made sure of that."

Carlisle nodded. "Very well, then. We'll set up another cot, next to Leah, and get you connected. Unless…."

He trailed off here, looking at Harry, who knew, without words, what Carlisle was asking.

"No," he replied with a decisive shake of his head. "To receive or replenish blood naturally, if possible, is always the better option. Magic can do a lot, but it will never measure up to one's natural healing, except in bettering the speed of recovery."

They then, with the help of Jacob and Bella, made quick work of setting everything up, as needed. As they continued to work, closing wounds and, in some cases, re-breaking bones so that they may heal in the correct way, Jasper spoke up. The situation was now too dire for the blanks in knowledge that too many of them seemed to have. This, for the soldier in particular, was far too much to handle.

"You said that it was Lycans that attacked the Quileute pack," he said softly, speaking specifically to Harry, though he had the attention of everyone conscious enough to give it. "The same things you said attacked Edward. Is it a coincidence that they've attacked twice in as many days?"

"Whenever Lycans are involved," Harry replied solemnly, "there is nothing coincidental about it. These assaults are not random, nor are they spontaneous – they were ordered."

"Ordered," said Carlisle sharply, facing Harry, "by the Volturi, Demetri had said. Do they really have control over such creatures?"

"They do, yes," Harry replied, sounding tired even to his own ears. He cleared his throat quietly. He could not afford to lose his composure now, nor his faith. It would not do for the key figure in the fight to be giving up. "They are breeding them."

"Breeding them?" Jacob enquired piercingly.

He seemed to understand the significance of such a thing, but he was also, clearly, offended at the thought of it. A thrill shot through Harry at realizing this. He shared a look with Hermione that none would understand but them. Their thoughts were quite premature at present, but if they were right, that meant the kinship the Alpha would feel for all living creatures (supernatural, as well as natural) was manifesting quicker than anticipated. That meant that Jacob was a lot more powerful than they had initially estimated. They would have to analyze that information later, though.

"Yes," Harry answered, matter-of-fact. "No one, not even those of the Supernatural world, would be expecting attacks from Lycans, if they expect attacks at all. Thus, no one can prepare for them."

"Making the attacks more likely to be successful," finished Jasper, understanding the line of thinking perfectly.

"Exactly," acquiesced the younger being with a nod.

As soon as everyone finished up the medical aid, doing as much as they could, Harry requested that they all step off of the platform. He needed to work the magic into the injured, and in such a way that it was accepted and complimented by their own natural magic. For this to happen, he could not afford to have interference from the innate magic of the uninjured. This done, he moved to stand at the center of the gazebo, his eyes closing as he concentrated.

Breathing in and out deeply, Harry was aware that, for the moment, he merely looked to be meditating. This was not far from the truth. First, he relaxed all the muscles in his body, making certain that no knots of energy remained – he had learned early on in his training that tension tended to interfere with his magic, as well as the magic ever-present in the atmosphere. Not only that, but in some cases the rigidity caused adverse effects – and Harry could not have that happen, not when he was attempting to heal people.

Once he found himself as calm as he could be, Harry then began to fall into himself, immersing himself in his magical core, feeling and connecting with the power he was found worthy of. In this way, he turned himself into something of a conduit for the magic, allowing it to travel through him, enter his veins and power him up from his center outwards.

The time that it took for him to complete this routine had grown shorter over time, so that it now took a mere few seconds, and no more than half a minute at the most (in the more extreme instances). As soon as he had the magic dancing at his fingertips, just beneath the surface, Harry opened his eyes again and focused his will.

Walking over to the first cot, the one on which Paul lay, he began the process. Paul had been the one with the most Lycan venom in him, and the one with the most severe wounds. Laying one hand on the shape-shifter's forehead and the other over his heart, Harry slowly, but steadily pushed his magic through the first barrier of Paul's skin. The next barrier encountered was that of the Quileute man's own magic. Harry acquainted himself with it, getting the 'feel' of it so that he may know how best to proceed.

Convincing Paul's power that he meant only to heal and not harm should have been tricky. In fact, it normally would have been quite difficult, where two power sources had never met before and had no connection with each other. Harry found that was not the case here. Having received his own power as a gift from Gaia – the origin, essentially, of all natural magic in existence – this was not surprising. The light of Paul's magic recognized and accepted the purity that was present in Harry's, allowing him to cast the spell that would speed up his body's normal blood replenishing process. Once that was done, the shifter's ability to heal speedily took over.

Working in an orderly fashion, Harry then did the same for all of the other wounded pack members. Considering the number of injured he had to perform the spells for, and the number and severity of the injuries, this did took him, in total, just over an hour to complete. By the end of it, surprisingly enough, Harry was not drained of energy as he once would have been. Then again, he reflected, it had been a long time since he had been a mere apprentice.

Taking a few steadying breaths, pulling himself out and detaching from his magical core, Harry stepped down from the sheltered area. The storm had abated in the time he had been concentrating on his task, he noted; it was now just a light drizzle, more mist than rain.

He immediately turned to Hermione, though he addressed everyone present, before any more queries could be made – as he was certain there were many, considering the magic he had just performed as well as the attacks of late.

"We have too much we must still discuss," he said seriously, his whole demeanor changing, becoming more commanding, the leader in him emerging. "A veritable well of information must still be disclosed before we are all on an equal enough level to go forward. Everyone needs to be gathered, and the sooner this happens, the better."

Hermione nodded her comprehension, as well as her agreement.

"The Council of Forks is to meet in little more than a day," she said, her tone all business, as was usual for her when the time came to be proactive. "Should we have that moved up?"

"Yes," said Harry emphatically. "Call Charlie; have the Council meet us here on the Reservation, now. We cannot wait any longer for this to happen."

Nodding once, Hermione turned around, already dialing the requisite number.

"I apologize, everyone," Harry then said, turning back to the rest of them. "All your questions and concerns will have to wait. We will discuss everything, at length, once everyone greatly involved is assembled. All of us require the information, and I'd rather avoid repetition or accidentally leaving someone ignorant."

"Understandable," Carlisle agreed solemnly. "But… is this the same Council that Angela and Jessica mentioned?"

"They've mentioned the Council?" asked Harry sharply. "When?"

"_Why_?" asked Hermione, more to the point, but just as urgently. She had, apparently, finished the call to Chief Swan.

"We… stumbled upon them," began Edward tentatively, his lips twitching slightly into an almost-smile, "destroying a rogue newborn Vampire."

"Really?" said Harry, with more fondness now than vexation. "When was this?"

"Not two days ago, more or less," Edward answered.

"I need to speak to those two more often," Harry said then, mock-exasperated. "It seems they can't even go one week without getting into trouble."

Hermione hummed in amusement, her eyes twinkling as she observed Harry. "Reminds you of _someone_, does it not?"

Edward chuckled while Harry simply rolled his eyes, not deigning to respond. This light reprieve was welcome, however. Soon enough, they might not have the time for even that.

Harry sighed. He walked silently over to Edward, laying his head on his Chosen's shoulder. This had the desired effect of the Vampire wrapping his arms securely around the young being.

In spite of everything, he could not help but feel happy and so very grateful. Now, even if the world really was to end in darkness, it would do so with Harry firmly at the side of his only love.

What more could he ask for?

**A…A**

"He made them _run away_!"

Jane – darling though she was, with just the right amount of ambition and sadism, but no leadership qualities – never did have any restraint when it came to her anger, Albus thought to himself. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his (admittedly) prominent nose, or to rub his temples. It would not do to show any signs of agitation, especially not towards his subordinates – even the more trusted ones.

"You did mention this already, my dear," he said instead, keeping his tone as light and amicable as possible. "You did not, however, explain _how_ this happened."

"I don't _know_," Jane said, her voice taking on that whiny quality of the petulant fifteen-year old girl that she embodied. "He just howled and they _ran away_!"

Yelling wordlessly at the heavens, she stomped her foot, spidery cracks spreading out from the dent that she created in the tiled floor.

"Why are we even using the mutts if they are so _useless_?" she raved, though not directly at Albus, he noted with approval. She knew well the consequences of such insolence.

"My dear," he chided fondly, as one would reprimand his favorite pet, "this is the first time anything of the sort has happened with the Lycans. It might well have been a fluke, so to speak."

Albus was almost certain that this was not the case, however.

Having received a more accurate, and much more detached, report of what had happened at the Quileute Reservation from Jane's reserved twin brother, the ancient Vampire had a plausible, even likely, theory regarding the Alpha of the pack. It was not one he was keen on, and it would indeed hamper his plans greatly should he allow it, but it was one he had to at least give great consideration to.

He had not come as far as he had by shying away from anything, and simply because it was disagreeable to him, after all.

"Maybe," said Jane, though the skepticism was plain in her tone. "I say we get rid of him – this Alpha. He would cause nothing but trouble, I'm certain of it."

Indeed, Albus thought to himself. If his theory was correct, though, then there was no way to ascertain just how powerful the shape-shifter was. That, in itself, was quite a problem. To openly attack him, however, would do more harm to his cause than good – of this, the Ancient was sure.

"No," he said decisively, leaving no room for argument. "For the moment, this shifter is an unknown. We cannot take any drastic measures against him, lest it undo us. Our minds, or at least _my_ mind has always been our greatest asset; we must not act too rashly. For now, the Alpha is a possible problem, but he has no direct involvement where my plans are concerned, or in the undoing of those plans, as it were. I will get more information on him, but until I say so, we will not move against him. Is that perfectly understood?"

"Yes, Master," chorused Jane and her brother, Alec.

Albus smiled.

The twins, he would admit to himself, were quite the acquisition. It had not taken much persuasion at all, really, to get them under his power. Once he had got the Volturi heads under control, the brother and sister duo had been rather compliant in overthrowing the previous rule. It had seemed that they had become disillusioned with their Sire and his 'brothers'; they were not assertive enough in their attempts to gain unshakeable control over the Vampire population. And now, they were his.

"Do me a favor, my dears," he said then, phrasing it as a request when they really had no choice in the matter. "Make absolutely certain that Mr. Crowley survives and maintains his strength for the next full moon cycle. Keep constant watch on him, mind – the last thing we need is the boy killing himself and ruining my machinations. After that, ready the plans to kidnap the girl by that time as well."

"Of course, Master," they chorused once again, sounding amusingly like robots to Albus.

"Have you come to a decision on which girl we will be taking?" asked Alec, the more practical of the two.

"I have, indeed," said Albus, his tone almost offensively gleeful. "I have done some investigative work on this one. She is quite powerful and will work out wonderfully."

He paused then, contemplating the wonder he had found in the girl; she was an unexpected boon, one which he would utilize to the fullest. Then, because he felt the pause had been dramatic enough, he turned to Jane and Alec with a sinister smile – the kind that Jane, for certain, appreciated, if her merciless giggle was anything to go by.

"Miss Angela Weber."

**/A\**

**Author's Note: **Hope you all enjoyed that chapter. Let me know what you all thought :) Thank you!


	9. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **So, this is going to be a different sort of chapter in that it is mostly informative. There's going to be lot's of dialogue and quite a few questions are going to be answered – not all, mind you, but a good deal of them. So if it seems a bit slower, please bare with me. This is necessary, and about time, I think :P That said… Thank you so much to everyone reading and enjoying this story. Onward… :)

**/A\**

_I'm so high I can hear heaven  
__I'm so high I can hear heaven  
__Oh, but heaven, no heaven don't hear me  
__And they say that a hero could save us  
__I'm not gonna stand here and wait  
__I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles  
__Watch as we all fly away  
__Someone told me that love would all save us  
__But how can that be, look what love gave us  
__A world full of killing  
__And blood-spilling  
__That world never came  
__And they say that a hero could save us  
__I'm not gonna stand here and wait  
__I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles  
__Watch as we all fly away_

»Chad Kroeger – Hero«

**/A\**

Chapter Eight:

Edward held on to Harry for as long as he needed it. He cared nothing, just then, for the looks he was, no doubt, attracting – be they soft smiles or confused frowns. Seeing Bella when they had first arrived had drawn his attention to the fact that he had yet to tell Harry of his failed relationship with her, and his befuddled, false notions of what his true feelings had been towards her. In the present time, though, he allowed those thoughts to float away from him. There would be time for that later.

His Chosen never did ask for much, feeling as though he needed to stand tall with his head held high, regardless of the weight of his burden. In those small moments, however, when he did decide to lean on Edward, the Vampire indulged him as much as he could. Those moments were always so short, though, when in the presence of others.

Soon enough, Harry lifted his head in order to meet Edward's gaze. He had a hesitant, questioning look in his verdant eyes that invariably pulled at his heart like nothing else could. No words were exchanged, but the Vampire immediately knew what his love was asking. The corner of his mouth lifted into a small half-smile and he gave a small nod. Harry took in a deep, calming breath and nodded back.

Pulling gently out of the embrace, Edward watched as his mate turned to face all present once more, though he remained close to the young Vampire's side. He knew that Harry felt at least some trepidation, but looking at him one would never be able to tell. Pride surged through Edward at that, swift and strong; there truly was no one like his beloved.

"There are a number of things that we need to discuss and clear up _before_ the Council of Forks gets here," Harry said, his voice steady, unyielding. He looked to Hermione, who nodded her agreement and support, coming to stand at his side as well. "That gives us about twenty minutes, give or take, which really isn't much. Therefore, the least amount of interruptions would be appreciated."

He did not sound derogatory in the least when requesting this, nor did he come across as patronizing. This, to Edward, was a testament of his great leadership qualities – qualities that Harry had once tried to deny, but eventually came to see as very much a part of him.

"First things first," he continued, turning to face Jacob and Bella now, "please try not to take offence at my next request, Jacob Black, but the situation we now find ourselves in is precarious, to say the least; every precaution must be taken."

Edward believed that Harry and Jacob had never before met each other. Seeing them now, he noted the formality present between them and knew this to be true. However, they did seem to have been aware of each other, at least, for some time and in some way.

Harry had paused after speaking, waiting for some acknowledgement from the grave-looking younger Black (as his father, as well as the other tribe Elders – Sue Clearwater and Quil Ateara Sr. – had now joined them out in the clearing). This came in the form of a single nod, after which Harry went on.

"Can Miss Swan be trusted?"

Jacob's face darkened considerably and Edward tensed his muscles, ready to spring at the slightest threat to Harry – not that his love needed his protection, being more than able to handle it on his own. It was merely instinct, Edward supposed. His Chosen, however, remained perfectly collected in the face of the Alpha's ire; in fact, it seemed that he had fully expected such a reaction.

"How dare –" Jacob began indignantly, his face screwing up in anger, his fists clenching at his sides. He did not get to finish, though.

"Jacob," his father interrupted, his tone firm, yet placating at once.

In the next instant, the young man had his heated glare turned on his father, but then realized just who he was looking at and lowered his gaze respectfully, though he was still clearly vexed.

"This is Lord Harry Potter, Jake," he said softly, and by way of introduction, though not as it would be made in the usual way. "You must feel, having completed your Spirit Quest, what and who he is, to some extent at least."

Jacob calmed himself through his breathing before nodding his confirmation. Edward wished to know exactly what was meant by this, but, surprisingly, found that Jacob's mind was no longer open to him as it once was. He could still enter, certainly, but he could not concretely discern the individual thoughts as he could before. Now, the Alpha's mind was a mass of color and movement, seemingly scattered. The Vampire frowned, wondering how such a thing had happened. He figured, logically, that it must have something to do with this Quest mentioned by Billy Black, but was unaware beyond that. And then it turned out to be pointless attempting to read Billy's mind, as the Quileute Elder studiously kept his mind blank. Edward huffed mentally. Was it not typical that when he actually wanted to read minds his gift was obstructed?

Getting nowhere, Edward turned once more to the current conversation.

"Then you must also know," Billy continued evenly, "that if he is asking such a question, he must have good reason."

The younger Black clenched his jaw, still agitated, but nodded begrudgingly nonetheless.

"Yes," he finally ground out, when Harry simply continued to wait expectantly for an answer to his earlier question. "Yes, Bella can be trusted."

"Then I'll require an oath," Harry stated simply, his tone business-like, as though discussing a contract (which, Edward supposed, he was).

"An oath?" asked Bella uncertainly, speaking for the first time since they had been at the Reservation.

"It is a binding magical contract," Hermione supplied in full lecture mode; Edward could not help but to smile at this. "You swear, on your life, that you will not speak of anything that you hear now, being discussed amongst present company, and Harry's magic will tie you to your word. There is no way break or deny a magical oath once it is completed – it is the strongest assurance we can receive that you will do as you say. It would, effectively, secure your trustworthiness."

"And when you say I have to swear on my life," Bella said slowly, "you mean that I'd really…?"

"Yes," Hermione answered when the teenaged girl's voice trailed off, knowing what she was asking. "Should you willingly, consciously, break the contract, you will lose your life."

"_What_?" exclaimed Jacob, incensed. "How could you even ask for something like that?"

"This is the ultimate reassurance we may receive," Harry stated plainly, feeling no guilt at asking for such, as he once would have. "One swears on the most valuable thing he or she has to offer, to lose, so that it can be certain that they will follow through. If Bella had magic, she would have sworn on that. As it is, her life is the most valuable thing to her. She may refuse to give such an oath, of course, but she will then have to leave the Reservation – for I refuse to disclose such delicate information with such uncertain conditions. Either that, or you may go ignorant, should you decide that the information is not that important to you. Those are the _only_ options available."

Jacob looked as though he wished to say more, to rant and rave at Harry, but was quieted with a simple touch to his shoulder from Bella.

"I'll do it," she said firmly, her voice unwavering.

"What?" the Alpha asked, astounded. "Bella, you don't have –"

"Jake," she interrupted softly, looking him straight in the eyes as she spoke. "We cannot claim that I can be trusted, only to back out when I'm asked to prove my trustworthiness. That doesn't say much about me, does it? Besides," she continued when it seemed that he would argue nevertheless, "I'm not planning to betray anything said here and now to anyone, so I have nothing to worry about, right?"

The question was voiced to Harry and Hermione specifically.

"That is correct," Harry answered simply.

"Bella…" Jacob began, but really had no words strong enough to deter her, as was plain from the determination shining through her eyes.

"What do I have to do?" she asked, moving towards Harry with a steadying breath.

Harry did not reply, but flexed his right hand once, twice, three times, as though to get the blood pumping in his veins. Then he merely held out his hand, like he would give her a handshake. Even so, Bella froze for a time, just staring at the hand, awed. Edward followed her line of sight, wondering at the odd reaction.

Someone let out a small gasp, having speculated at the same thing as he, doubtless.

Golden and silver spirals were currently swirling around Harry's hand and up his forearm, up to his elbow. They glowed in an unearthly, utterly beautiful way, mesmerizing all present as they continued to curl and flow – like liquid light.

"Take my hand," Harry said gently, coaxing Bella from her trance, "repeat after me, and the magic will do the rest."

Bella nodded hesitantly, but not out of fear, as far as Edward could tell. She seemed, instead, to be marveling at the thought of actually being allowed to experience Harry's magic so closely. Gingerly, she reached out and placed her smaller hand in Harry's; he enclosed it gently, being careful not to shock Bella in any way.

The teenager gasped, nonetheless, and Jacob tensed thinking her hurt. It did not take too long to realize, however, that it was a sound of wonderment, not pain.

Bella gripped Harry's hand a bit tighter, the visible magic twisting and turning over her hand and arm now, as well.

"Repeat after me," Harry said again, signaling the start of the actual oath. "_I, Isabella Marie Swan…_"

Bella recited the words back, as requested, her voice shaky to begin with, but growing steadily stronger.

"_Do pledge not to divulge, discuss or speak of…_"

"Do pledge not to divulge, discuss or speak of…"

"_Anything said hereafter, amongst present company…_"

"Anything said hereafter, amongst present company…"

"_To anyone outside of aforementioned company..._"

"To anyone outside of aforementioned company…"

"_On my life, I do so swear it._"

"On my life, I do so swear it."

"_So mote it be._"

"So mote it be."

Instantly, upon completion of the vow, the trails of magic, thus far twirling leisurely, raced in opposite directions – one shooting into Harry's chest, the other into Bella's. They each, for a single moment, glowed a brilliant golden hue before the light fell inwards, as though breathed in by their very cores.

Bella inhaled deeply and opened glazed-looking eyes, which had shut sometime after the pledge. She looked perfectly fine, considering the weight of such an act, but as soon as Harry let go of her hand, the seventeen-year old swayed on the spot. Her eyes fluttered slightly, probably due to her apparent dizziness.

"What's wrong?" asked Jake worriedly, immediately at her side. "Did something happen? Is Bella okay?"

"She's absolutely fine," Harry reassured him, smiling slightly at the great care being shown by the Alpha. "She is simply not used to having magic in her system; it has consumed a great deal of her energy. Bella just needs to rest now."

Harry looked around them for a moment, and then walked over to a relatively flat part of the land.

"Here," he said, motioning for Jacob to bring Bella to him. "Sit."

As he requested Bella to do so, he waved his hand in a wide arc over the empty space. The air shimmered and distorted for a second and, in the time it would have taken one to blink, a plush armchair appeared.

Too tired to be astonished, though her lips did twitch, Edward watched as Bella sank gratefully into the seat conjured for her, even as Jacob eyed the chair suspiciously. Edward rolled his eyes at that, which was mainly due to his mistrust of his Chosen. While the Vampire could admit that it was to be expected, and even quite understandable, he did not have to like it.

"All right," Harry said, instantly back to business. "One reason that I do not wish to impart this knowledge to the Council of Forks is that it would put them in unnecessary, but grave danger. The major reason, however, is much more distressing, in some ways."

He paused here, turning to share a solemn look with Billy.

"We have a mole," he finished significantly. "Someone is passing information – _vital_ information – on to Dumbledore."

The Quileute Chief closed his eyes for a time, as though in pain. When he reopened them, though, a deep and undeniable fire was burning in them. In that moment, Edward realized just how great an Alpha he would have made.

"Is this at the root of the attack our people have now suffered?" he asked, his voice hard, but unable to belie the hurt and betrayal lacing his words.

"Yes," Harry answered plainly, but commiserating as well.

"But…" Bella began hesitantly, her eyes wide, disbelieving, at the implications of Harry's words. "But I know those people, or the kids, at least. They… it just doesn't seem like it's possible. How can you be so sure that this mole is one of them?"

"Your doubt is reasonable, Bella," Harry replied gently, a touch of sympathy in his gaze. "I, too, would like nothing more than to be able to trust the Council of Forks. However, I cannot allow sentimentality to cloud my judgment, distort my thinking. Until we know for certain whom the spy is, I would rather that the few remain ignorant, than allow the many to be placed in harm's way due to the information leak. Can you understand that, Bella?"

Edward heard as Jasper's, and even Rosalie's, respect grew for Harry upon hearing these words. They could both relate to him much better now, they thought.

"Yes," Bella answered slowly, a slight frown on her young face. "But still – how can you be sure?"

"Process of elimination," Harry said with a small shrug. He continued when he saw that Bella was about to ask for clarification.

"I trust Edward unconditionally," he said, making it sound not like a hyperbole or compliment, but a simple statement of fact. Edward could not hold back a small smile at that, even as Bella's eyes took on a calculating look. "And if he tells me that his family can be trusted, then I trust them as well – not as much perhaps, but close enough. Regarding the Quileute tribe, the Elders have heard of, if not actually seen, enough to never be traitorous in such a way. The pack is simpler; their minds, their thoughts, are completely open to each other, especially their Alpha. They cannot block him; if the mole was one of them, Jacob would know instantly. As for Jacob, himself, he would not have been able to complete his Spirit Quest were he a traitor – he would not have come back at all. That only leaves the Council of Forks."

"You don't suspect me, right?" Bella asked, although it seemed as though she was merely confirming something she already knew.

"No, I don't," answered Harry with a heart-stopping smile, his beautiful gem-like eyes shining. "I just don't know you. Besides, Dumbledore would require someone well-informed, someone inside the circle – you were not even aware there was a Council up until recently, I'd imagine."

"A few days ago, actually," the teen nodded, some apprehension making its way into her posture. Edward wondered why, but Jacob answered that for him, somewhat.

"No one expects you to break records or anything, Bells," he reassured her lightly, squeezing her shoulder with affection. "You don't have to aim to top your dad. Hell, I'm not even going to _try_ beating out mine."

"Suck up," Billy grumbled good-naturedly, even as his lips twitched.

"Just facts, old man," the Alpha said with a shrug. "That's just the way it is."

"Time," Jasper said then. It was a simple word, but the weight of it was felt instantly.

"Right," agreed Harry, getting back into the seriousness of the situation without difficulty. "With regard to this next bit of information, I believe it is only fair that you know – especially if you are to decide to see this fight through. It is the answer to the question I am almost certain is at the forefront of everyone's minds."

As he said this, Harry looked to Jasper specifically; he knew, probably, that if no one else considered the question he was referring to, Jasper would have.

"What are you?" Jasper asked in response, confirming Edward's thoughts.

Harry nodded, drawing in a long breath. He looked to Edward briefly, for silent support as well as agreement that he could reveal this to the present group. The bronze-haired Vampire, being the only one apart from Harry and Hermione, who knew exactly what type of being his Chosen was, nodded his affirmation. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, squeezing gently to give as much quiet strength as he could through the touch.

Edward may trust everyone in attendance enough to have them be made aware of this, but he would not take kindly to _anyone_ who held it against his love. He knew _who_ Harry was – the man, his heart and his soul – and therefore would never even think to judge him based on _what_ he was. There really was nothing to judge him on in that regard, in any case. Edward knew, however, how devastating ignorance could be, and how cruel people could be when they lacked essential knowledge. But Harry had suffered enough at the hands of others with blind judgments, as Edward had been witness to a number of times, and he would not allow it to happen now.

He tightened his grip once again, this time letting him know that he was not alone in this, and then relaxed his hold. He did not let go entirely, though.

"I am," Harry began slowly, still a bit hesitant with this bit of news, but forging on regardless, "a Daemon."

The silence that followed this revelation was mostly due to non-comprehension. The only knowledge of Daemons, or more accurately demons, that everyone else had was that of myths. No one else had ever heard of their actual existence, let alone come across any.

"Demons exist?" asked Emmett faintly, for clarity more so than curiosity.

"_Daemon_," Harry emphasized softly, a somewhat detached smile on his lovely features. "I am fairly confident that any fantastical inferences any of you are making are incorrect."

"In that case," said Jasper, his tone and thoughts both unbiased considering his lack of facts, "what exactly is a Daemon?"

"A Daemon is a being meant to keep the balance in the world – be it Natural or Supernatural," Harry explained, sounding for all the world as though he were reciting from a textbook. "Whenever darkness increases to such a degree, and at such a pace, as to tip the scales between light and dark, a Daemon is born."

"And how many of your kind are there?" asked Carlisle, his thirst for knowledge warring with his unease at learning that there was too much darkness in the world.

"Including me," Harry answered with a sad smile, "only one."

The gasps issued from Alice, Esme and even Rosalie matched the look of shocked sympathy on Carlisle's face. They all could only guess at the level of loneliness such a thing would undoubtedly bring about.

"You are the last of your kind?" Carlisle asked in a whisper.

"No, Dr Cullen –" Harry began, but was interrupted gently by the Cullen head.

"Carlisle, please," he requested, smiling softly. To Edward it seemed that his Sire had readily accepted his mate into their fold; he was beyond pleased and grateful.

"Carlisle, then," Harry returned with a smile of his own. "No, I am not the last. I am the _only one_ of my kind."

"But what does that mean?" asked Emmett, not unkindly.

"A Daemon can only ever be born at a specific time," explained Harry, attempting to do so in a way that would alleviate the confusion instead of compound upon it. "We are also always born with a specific purpose – that of restoring the balance between light and dark. We are borne of Magic and created exclusively to fulfill this intent. The Forces that be, the power of the earth, allows us to be. Only one is ever created at any given time. And this time, that one would be me."

"But how could you possibly be expected to succeed at such a task on your own?" asked Esme, distressed on Harry's behalf. She always did have a big heart, and this was merely more proof of that fact.

"I would not be able to," said Harry simply, a heartbreaking smile on his face. "I am necessary, yes. It is not something that could be achieved without me, but that does not mean I can do it alone. This is why I beseech anyone willing and able to help. I do not deny that I require it."

"But why…" Carlisle began, before shaking his head and rephrasing his question. "How is it that we are unaware of the encroaching darkness, as you put it earlier? Should it not be… obvious?"

"Not necessarily," Harry replied seriously. "The_ acts_ of the adversaries may be explicit – as is generally the case with such beings. The darkness that feeds on such deeds, however, tends not to be. It creeps, slowly over time, building up in strength and influence, in the most subtle of ways. Darkness is not truly sentient, you see; it is the byproduct, basically, of the state of affairs, the state of the collective mind. Thus, feelings do not factor with it, directly, least of all impatience. It simply grows and grows, through thoughts, words and actions, until there is too much of it to fight. There are, of course, always signs of its advent, and of its intensification – if one knows what one is looking for."

"What sort of signs?" Jasper asked curiously, wondering if he had perhaps noted these symbols and simply not known what they were.

"Well," replied Harry, no doubt searching his mind for the signs that he believed would have been noticed by the others, "the weather would be the easiest sign, seeing as how everybody is aware of it, even if they do not know the meaning. You must all have noticed how unusually cold it has been for a while now."

Having received nods in confirmation to this, Harry continued.

"This is the darkness affecting the elements; these negative responses in the atmosphere, the environment around us, this is nature's way of reacting to the overwhelming gloom taking hold. For supernatural beings, this can be felt intrinsically as well. Because of the magic running through our cores, in whatever form, we are able to sense the alterations and atypical charges in the very air around us. You may not have known exactly what you have been feeling, but that does not change the fact that you have felt it, inexplicably – a coming storm."

"I have," Jasper stated softly, his brows furrowing as he assimilated this information, the other Vampires, and even Jacob, nodding their agreement. "I believe I have felt this change you speak of, unconsciously."

"How do we fight darkness?" whispered Alice, her eyes unseeing as she attempted to wrap her mind around such an abstract concept.

She was also thinking of the darkness of her own past, the blank in her memories of the time before she was turned. She knew more now, of course, thanks to James.

She knew that her own parents faked her death and placed her in an insane asylum, due to the Visions she has always been able to receive, even before becoming a Vampire. She knew that she was hunted, as a human, by James because of the fact that she was his Singer – the one human whose scent would bring about bloodlust unmatched in the Vampire – as Bella was Edward's Singer (though he had, obviously, managed to control it). And Alice now knew that this was also the reason she was turned. Another Vampire, in a last ditch attempt to save the Seer, had changed her so that she could at least escape James, not be drained by him. That Vampire was no more – James had killed him in revenge.

All of this, however, could not replace actual memories; Edward, too, knew this well. And so Alice still felt as though she walked around with something of a black hole. For the most part, this feeling has been alleviated by Jasper. There were moments, though….

"We cannot," Harry answered simply, a sad smile on his features. "And that is why we don't even attempt to. What we can fight, however, is the root cause behind the growing darkness."

"Dumbledore," said Jasper, a hard note in his tone. He never did take kindly to any pain caused to his mate, no matter the source.

"Dumbledore," Harry repeated in agreement.

It was at that moment that three vehicles, two cars and a minivan, parked at the very edge of the field where they were all currently gathered together. Out of these vehicles stepped thirteen people in total. Five out of these thirteen were easily recognized – Charlie Swan, of course, was known by all as the Chief Officer of Forks; the other four were teenagers that attended Forks High School – Angela and Jessica were to be expected, the Cullens having seen them in action already, and with them walked Eric Yorkie and Mike Newton. This was surprising, but no more so than two human girls taking on a newborn Vampire, and so could more easily be accepted. The oncoming Council set a fast, but still human, pace across the meadow, making their way towards those already present.

"The Council of Forks," Hermione stated to no one in particular, watching with the rest as they made their walk.

"Couldn't wait to see us again, could you?" asked Jessica jovially as soon as she was close enough (still thinking in terms of natural senses, as opposed to supernatural).

One would think, with secrets revealed, that there would be some indicator, some physical and visible change in the person whose secret it was. That was not the case, however. The two girls looked the same as they always did. Jessica stood at a height of about five feet and one inch; she truly did prove that dynamite came in small packages. Her soft brown and wavy hair was tied back that day, and her clear blue eyes were the opposite of the weather – one could almost see the sunshine in them.

Angela was taller than her friend, standing at around five feet and seven inches, and was slimmer than Jessica as well (who possessed more curves, and not in an unappealing way). Her hair was a darker, chocolate brown, was straighter and shorter. She had also opted to tie it up on this overcast day. Angela's eyes, while deep brown, also seemed to shine with inner light and mirth. Her spectacles did nothing to hide this.

Edward and Emmett, both, returned the wide grin the teenage girls were sporting.

"With the way you two left us hanging like that?" asked Emmett with a scoff. "Of course we couldn't wait!"

"Not that we are looking for any… cheeseburger specials this time around either," Edward put in good-humoredly, his lips twitching into a lopsided smile.

"Wouldn't say no to the fries, though," Emmett added with a chuckle, giving Angela a friendly wink.

Both girls simply laughed at the reference to their encounter with the Cullens. The air between the two teenaged friends and Edward and Emmett might have been amicable, as the telepath noted, but this was not the case concerning the parents now in attendance – apart from Chief Swan, perhaps, who had a neutral look upon his face. He did eye Bella and the armchair she was seated in with a raised brow, however, seeing as how out of place such a sight was in an open field.

"You guys… know each other?" asked Bella, bemused, as she looked back and forth between the two girls and the Cullens.

"Oh! Yeah…" Jessica replied, turning to Bella with a semi-guilty grin. "Funny story, actually…"

"I'm sure it is," Harry said dryly, though he could not keep all of the fondness out of his voice.

"Harry!" Angela exclaimed happily, facing him directly. "It was Jessica."

Edward could not help the chuckle that escaped him at the deadpan nature of Angela's tattle.

"What?" Jessica burst out, playing along, as she rounded on her friend. "How could it have _possibly_ been my fault? It was _completely_ random!"

"Random or not, Jess," Angela replied, shaking her head in mock-sympathy, "you have to admit, between the two of us, _you_ are the magnet. These things are just attracted to you, like flies to –"

"_Delightful_ as that analogy, no doubt, is," Harry interrupted firmly, "I think we would all like to be spared, Angela."

Angela simply gave him a sheepish smile in response.

"Why has the Council meeting been moved, Lord Potter?" asked one of the older woman from the Forks Council.

Edward was almost certain that this was Angela's mother. Apart from the fact that she had arrived with Angela, the resemblance she had to the teenaged girl was striking. She stood at the same height, and had the same slim build. Her chocolate brown hair was longer, streaked with sparse gray hairs, though this simply added to the distinguished air that she carried. She, too, wore glasses, thin and stylish wire frames, but over sharp gray eyes. Her features, while similar to Angela's, were finer, slighter. On the surface she looked rather delicate, but Edward was willing to wager that this was a false impression. Her gaze did much to attest the underlying strength within her.

"The Quileute pack," Harry began gravely, looking to get straight to the point, "if you will notice behind me, has been attacked. Almost every member was severely injured. They are stable now, but a ruthless assault such as this cannot go unheeded."

The woman's eyes widened and shocked exclamations were heard from almost every Forks Council member. All of them craned their necks to view the gazebo in the background, taking in every victim.

"But how…?" another female member of the Forks Council gasped out, her light blue eyes seemingly glued to the morbid sight before her. "The Quileute pack is unknown…"

This woman Edward did recognize. She, along with her husband, owned the camping and outdoor store on the edge of Forks. The Cullens shopped there often in order to corroborate their cover as avid campers. She was also Mike's mother. Edward would have suspected her least of all, if asked to guess at the identities of the Forks Council members. Karen Newton had always seemed like someone who adored being glamorous, with her small stature, high heels and perfect manicures. Her light blonde hair was always perfectly styled as well, and her make-up never out of place. To say that Edward was surprised was a great understatement.

"The presence of a mole among us has been confirmed," Hermione replied to Karen's earlier statement, her tone severe – she did not take kindly to betrayal, it appeared.

The Council members had varying reactions to this piece of news. Angela and Eric had deep frowns upon their brows, clearly aggrieved that there was a traitor among them, but also attempting to figure out who could possibly have done such a thing. Jessica's jaw and fists were clenched in barely restrained anger, no doubt wanting the culprit before her right then, so that she may take a swing at him or her. Mike had a troubled look upon his face, which was trained on the ground, as he bit into his bottom lip. The adults had shocked expressions, in different degrees, upon their features, but they held themselves together a lot better than their children (for Edward was certain, now, that these were familial relations, per group).

"It was always a very real possibility," Charlie said with a firm and steady voice, taking the reins before the Forks Council could lose themselves in any feelings too negative. Having always seen it in him, it still caught Edward what a strong and commanding presence Chief Swan was. "We now know and must deal with it accordingly, but we _cannot_ let it disillusion us. We have a duty to fulfill – that must come first, personal feelings aside."

Many of the Council members were nodding even before Charlie had finished speaking. It was extremely easy to see how respected and trusted he was. Though Edward did not know for certain, he was rather sure that Chief Swan was the official leader of the Council of Forks.

"Agreed," Harry stated immediately, settling the matter in the way he was always able – by mere presence alone. "Now, in order to go forward, it is imperative that we all know each other to, at least, a basic extent."

Many nodded, and still more adjusted their postures, standing taller with more serious demeanors.

"Do take these introductions to be vital, mundane an occurrence though it may usually be," he continued, looking around at each individual there. "I am almost certain that we will all be fighting this war together, some more closely than others. We need each other – understand the importance of that."

More nods followed these words, and if anyone was lacking in attention previously, they most definitely weren't now. That was the power that surrounded and infused Edward's Chosen, the Vampire thought to himself, whether he deliberately caused it or not.

"All right then," Harry then went on, satisfied that he was being taken seriously. "Seeing as how the Quileute Council and pack are already familiar with the Council of Forks, and the Cullen family, the only familiarizations that now need to occur are those between the Cullens and Forks Council.

"Charlie, whom everyone knows, I'm sure, is the leader of the Council of Forks. The Swan family founded the Council many years ago. The younger members of the Council you also know – Angela, Jessica, Eric and Mike. There families, however, you won't be familiar with. We have Lady Diane Weber and Lord Phillip Weber," Harry began, walking over to each person as he introduced him or her. "Sharon and Peter Stanley, Karen and Lord Elliot Newton, Peter Yorkie, who is Eric's father, and Bradford Yorkie, who is Eric's elder brother."

Harry then turned to the Cullens, introducing each of them in much the same way, starting with Carlisle, as the head and Sire (for the most part, though Edward realized that Harry did not know about Alice and Jasper being adopted).

"Now," Harry continued, taking a breath, unneeded though it was, going on to further explain the Council "everybody within the Council of Forks plays their own role. This is necessary considering the immense responsibility that they have taken upon themselves – and quite admirably at that.

"Chief Swan, apart from the fact that he has been raised with vast knowledge of our world, is a natural leader. He is responsible for ensuring the unity of the Forks Council, and the reason they remain strong in that regard. Next, you perhaps would not realize, simply based on the titles I have used when introducing the Weber's and the Newton patriarch, but they are part of the magical world. They are not supernatural; they are human beings, however, they are gifted. You have already witnessed this gift in Angela. They are what you would call witches and wizards."

"Don't witches and wizards have to use wands, or something?" blurted Emmett, seemingly unable to help himself.

"Yeah, because every other witch and wizard you've met used a wand, right?" said Jessica, blue eyes sparkling. There was no malice in her tone, though; she was clearly amused.

Emmett grinned, giving a massive shrug and conceding the point: he really did not know what he was talking about.

"Actually," Angela said, deciding to be the one who explained, pride evident in her tone, "we only use wands when we're younger, for the first few years of truly making use of our gift. When we're younger we have difficulty accurately directing the magic we call upon. That's why we require a focus, and wands are the best for that. Once we have a greater grasp of what we can do and how, it becomes less and less necessary. Of course, for the more difficult and intricate spells or intentions, we tend to use wands as well – to lessen the risk of doing something wrong."

"And the gift, I take it," said Carlisle, ever the scholar, "is hereditary."

"It is, yes," Angela replied with a smile. It was easy to see the appreciation and pride she held for her gift, and her abilities because of it. "You shouldn't misunderstand, however. Our gift is not that we have magic; it is that we can borrow and channel it through the use of rituals and potions. What you saw me do in the woods the other night, that was a standard ritual. It allowed me to borrow a certain amount of magic to channel into whatever I wanted, up to a limit. Witches and wizards are simply conduits, you see. Once the magic we have borrowed at any time runs out, we cannot do any spells until another ritual is performed."

"Harry didn't have to perform any rituals, though," stated Rosalie, ever the suspicious one. Now, however, she was not being purposefully untrusting; she simply wanted clarification.

"That is because Harry is the only one who is actually gifted with magic since birth," said Lady Weber, pride and adoration evident in her tone. Clearly, she held Harry in high esteem, and cared for him deeply. Harry gave her a warm smile in return.

"The only one among the Council, you mean?" asked Emmett.

"No," answered Angela, obviously awed, "the only one in the whole world. Harry is not just a conduit, like we are. He has been chosen by Gaia, herself – Mother of all magic. He was found worthy and so he is the only being in existence who has magic inside him, running through his veins. Harry doesn't just borrow and channel magic – he _is_ magical."

"Dude," Emmett said, his tone uncharacteristically hushed. "I knew you must have been something special, having got my bro here to actually think, instead of just brood, but this… Man!"

Harry grinned modestly and shrugged. "It's a humbling thing," he said, not self-centered in the least. "Trust was placed in me, and I'll do all that I can to prove myself worthy of it. It's not the easiest thing in the world to do, but it is the right thing."

Carlisle smiled and nodded, showing his admiration of one so young being so wise. Harry, though, never did do well with praise. Insults and antagonism he could handle just fine, but give him a sincere compliment and he got flustered. Sensing that his mate was getting increasingly uncomfortable in the spotlight, as he always did, Edward chose that moment to speak.

"But Jessica isn't a witch, as well?" he asked, looking more for confirmation. He was sure she did not use magic, but he had seen her do some spectacular things, the night she fought of the Vampire, and did not see how she could have accomplished that without a gift of her own.

"Nope," Jessica answered with a smug smile, clearly understanding Edward's thoughts (even if she could not really know them). She, too, was proud, he could tell. "Good old, one hundred percent human."

Emmett suddenly held out his arm to Jessica, his hand closed into a fist. The teen laughed as she realized what he wanted, and genially bumped her fist with his, rather larger one.

"That was freaking awesome!" he told her, impressed and with genuine admiration.

"Yeah, well," said Jessica with real modesty. "It wasn't _all_ me. I did have amazing help."

She bumped shoulders with Angela as she said this last part, who smiled back at her. The camaraderie, the honest love of deep friendship, resonated strongly between the two of them. It was palpable.

"All right, so how did you manage that, taking out the newborn?" asked Edward, not quite willing to let the subject drop. He was far too intrigued.

"That," Jessica answered, flushed at the knowledge, Edward guessed, of being a part of something never before seen or done, "is due the brilliance of Harry and Hermione –"

"Mostly Hermione," Harry put in, sending a wide smile Hermione's way. And it was not mere false modesty, either, but the young being sincerely was ensuring that the credit was given where it was due.

Hermione, for her part, ducked her head with a pleased smile as Jessica continued.

"With Eric's genius and Harry's power, they were able to combine technology and magic. The circlet you saw me put on the Vamp, that's one example of this. What that did, basically, was nullify the two main supernatural powers of Vampires that would make it impossible for me to fight them, let alone win – their strength and their speed. And that is how I was able to do what I did."

"That is... truly facinating!" breathed Carlisle, his wonder apparent.

"So, what exactly is your role within the Council?" asked Jasper, needing to acquire as much knowledge as possible, while he could.

"Jessica," answered Harry, deciding to continue on with the introductions and explanations as he had been, "is an amateur Hunter."

"I hate that word," the aforementioned girl put in just then. "_Amateur_. I am quite good, I can assure you."

"Amateur in this instance," Harry responded patiently, a grin gracing his features, "as you well know, Jessica, means young and not unskilled. Even you will admit that you're hardly a pro."

Jessica huffed, conceding mock-grudgingly.

"Yeah, well," she said in a jokingly haughty manner, "I'm just clarifying, in case anyone misunderstood."

"I really do wish you'd stop treating hunting as a game, Jess," her mother said softly, a somewhat sorrowful look in her eyes. "It is a grave responsibility, a burden, and a sacrifice."

Sharon Stanley, Edward saw upon glancing in her direction when she spoke, was as much like her daughter as she was different. She was about the same height as Jessica, and had a similar build, but with slightly broader shoulders – a swimmer's build. Sharon, however, had dirty blonde curls, instead of being a brunette, and a much lighter complexion. Her eyes, though, were the same deep blue as her daughter's. Sharon, however, had much more experience behind her gaze, much more insight.

"You've said this before, mom," Jessica said with a small roll of her eyes, though not directly at her mother – she had respect enough to know not to do that. "And I don't doubt you. I get it, that you know what you're talking about. But I don't see it. From where I'm standing, we kick butt and do a great deal of good, saving a lot of people. Hunting is fantastic!"

Angela's mother, Diane, placed her hand upon Sharon's shoulder before she could get into a real argument with Jessica.

"She is still young, Sharon," she said gently, sounding far wiser than her relatively young age would denote. "Such a lesson can only be learned by experience, you know this. Difficult though it most certainly is, Jessica must learn it as everyone before her has – on her own."

Sharon nodded her agreement, but looked as though she truly wished it was a lesson she could spare her daughter.

Harry, understanding and sorrowful as well, chose not to comment on this personal matter. He simply went on with his presentation, so to speak.

"Jessica is a fighter, basically, as her father before her was, and still is to a certain extent. They have taken on the responsibility of physically protecting humanity, at least here in Forks thus far, from whatever wishes them harm – like rogue newborn Vampires. Jessica's mother, though not directly involved in hunting, is our weapons specialist, and a rather amazing one at that. There is very little she does not know in that regard.

"Eric is a technological genius. He is unparalleled as far as I have ever seen. It is due to him, in great part, that we were actually able to make Hermione's ideas reality."

The boy in question grinned somewhat embarrassedly, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. He was rather tall, standing at six feet and three inches, with a wiry physique. His black hair was sleek-looking, but with a longer cut than was usual, and an olive complexion. His eyes were very dark, and extremely intelligent, though he lacked a bit of self-confidence, except when it came to his field of expertise, Edward imagined.

"Just a geek, basically," Eric supplied with no arrogance evident.

"Eric's father and brother," continued Harry, moving on as quickly as he could (for they still had the recent attacks to discuss), "have both served in the navy. They know a great deal about combat and conflict situations, but they also know a great deal about ensuring that their roles within the Council of Forks, as well as the Supernatural world itself, remains secret. The alternative would be too great a risk for us all to take.

"Last, but most certainly not least, Mike is the research specialist among the Council, as is his mother. I am fairly sure, however, that no one person, in the history of the Forks Council, has ever known as much as Mike Newton. He knows more about the Supernatural world, and many of the supernatural species, than any human I've ever met."

Mike did not meet Harry's gaze as he spoke these words, but his cheeks did color a bit; it would be difficult to remain unaffected by any sincere compliment given by Harry.

"And then, of course, there's Bella," put in Eric enthusiastically. "Once she joins the Council, she'll be pro before you know it."

Bella blushed and looked away self-consciously.

"What could I possibly contribute?" she asked softly, uncertainly. "I'm… human. I'm nothing."

And just like that, instantly, the air seemed to chill even more. A brief, but loaded silence followed her words. It was so apparently significant that Bella looked up once again, sensing it, though she was clearly confused.

"Bella…" said Jessica, trying with great effort, but not quite managing regardless, for patience. Her voice was tight with suppressed anger and indignation, no doubt at the words Bella had just spoken. "_I _am _human_! Your _dad_ is _human_! Most of the Council, since it began, has been _human_!And I don't care what sort of superiority you're giving to the supernatural, but _we are not nothing_!"

Bella looked rather stricken then, as if she were only just realizing exactly what she had implied. Jacob looked as though he was about to jump to Bella's defense, but Edward sincerely hoped that he would not. It was not that he felt different; the Vampire had always felt the need to defend Bella, shield her from anything and everything that could cause her hurt – even herself. Right then, however, Edward appreciated the fact that this was something that Bella needed to come to terms with. If there was one thing that the telepath had never agreed with the seventeen-year old girl on, it was that she always tended to value herself less because she was human. She never did understand that being a human did not equate being weak.

"No – it's not – that's not what I meant!" she said hurriedly, attempting to backtrack.

"No," said Jessica, still quite upset and not shy to let it be known. "It's what you said. Look, I don't know what kind of hang-ups you have, what sort of insecurities. But let me let you in on something: you _choose_ what you are, what you want to be. So if that's how you see yourself, so be it. We'll have to work on that. But don't, for one second, think that it applies to the rest of us. We worked _damn hard_ to get where we are. We deserve to have that recognized."

Bella swallowed hard, looking ashamed and contrite, but did not averting her gaze again. It seemed, somehow, that she instinctually knew that that would not count in her favor.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice soft but steady. "I really did not mean to insult you, or degrade who you are. I've just… never really seen much in myself. And you're right," she went on before she could be interrupted, "that is something I'll have to… we'll have to work on. I'll get there, though. I will. Eventually."

Throughout the exchange, Harry watched Bella with calculating eyes. Taking a breath now, he spoke to her evenly, firmly.

"Human beings are a blessed species," he told her, gaze unwavering, making sure that she kept all of her attention on him (not that anyone would have been able to look away, Edward thought to himself). "You are limitless in your own way. A supernatural being will always be governed by what he or she is. There are always rules, both implicit and explicit, that surround any given supernatural species. These are rules that _must_ be followed; there is no choice in the matter. Humans, however, are different in that regard. You have no inhibitions. You can go where you want, do what you want, _be_ who you want. The possibilities for you, within the laws of the Natural world, are endless."

He paused then, gauging how much of what he was saying was sinking in, how much was truly being heard as opposed to simply being disregarded. Satisfied thus far, Harry continued.

"Yes, the gifts granted to supernatural beings are great. What you don't seem to grasp, though, Bella, is that sacrifices of equal greatness must be made in order to acquire said gifts. Everything is about balance – everything. We gain a lot, to be sure, but so too must we _lose_ a lot. You, Bella, are young enough to not truly realize or appreciate what I am telling you; you are young enough that you don't understand how severe the sacrifices made actually are, you don't comprehend the real value of them. Until you experience such loss, if ever you do, then only will you be aware of the truth of my words. For now, if you can, trust me."

Bella only stared at Harry for a long while after he had stopped speaking. Harry obliged her by holding her gaze calmly and confidently. Then, slowly, she nodded her head – either in belief in Harry's words or trust in him, or both. Edward smiled. He always did have a lot of faith in Bella; he was glad to have it proven to be worthwhile. It really was a pity, though, that he could not tell for certain what Bella was thinking. And speaking of….

"I have a question," said Edward suddenly with a pensive frown on his face, speaking aloud for all to hear, but directing his query to Harry. "Why is it that I have never been able to read any of this in the minds of Chief Swan, Angela, Jessica, Eric or Mike? I can read their minds, I know that much. But shouldn't I have, at some point, been able to gather this information previously?"

"You can read minds?" asked Mike with wide eyes. He looked far more shocked than Edward would have thought, almost to the point of fear. The Vampire thought he could understand that, however. They, as the Council of Forks, had quite large secrets that needed to stay secret. It would be detrimental to have anyone able to access them so easily.

Edward gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "That's what I believed."

Harry turned slowly to face the telepath, a sheepish, yet still charming, smile lighting his fine features.

"That would be my doing," he said in a guilty sounding voice. Edward was not fooled, though. His love would not genuinely feel guilt over doing what was necessary, especially if he had good reason and no one was hurt because of it.

"More than anyone," Harry continued, now more interested in giving his reasons than playing along, "I am aware of how really vulnerable the mind can be. Not only through knowing you, Edward, but also because of the Mind Magic that I have studied. Once I had started working closely with the Forks Council, I knew that I had to ensure their safety as much as I could, including the safety of their secrets. They have the same specialized mind shield that I have placed in Demetri. I knew that it would look too suspicious if all of their thoughts were blocked off, and thus I made it so that typical, insignificant thoughts could be heard. These are things one would expect to hear. However, as soon as a thought registered anything to do with the Council, or the supernatural, or anything of that nature, out of the ordinary, it would be silenced to anyone listening, or attempting to."

"Well," said Edward once the explanation was over, "at least we know that it works."

Harry gave him a blinding smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Edward smiled back easily.

"Right," said Harry not long after. "Getting back to the original issue, the reason for the added pressure, I had the Council meeting moved because of this attack on the Quileute pack and the presence of the mole. Things are moving more quickly now, and so must we."

Instantly, everybody was serious once more, paying careful attention to what was being said. The very air around them now seemed heavier, with the solemnity almost tangible.

"The Volturi are at the root of this attack," Harry went on, addressing them all as a Commander, a leader, without having anyone, as far as Edward could tell, feeling inadequate or small. "However, they had made use of the Lycans for the actual assault."

"Why now though?" asked Peter Yorkie, his eyes narrowed in thought, his tone gruff.

"Well for one," answered Hermione, having considered the very same question extensively since learning of the incident, "they are not only aware, now, of the existence of the Quileute wolf-pack and their alliance to the Cullen family, but also the timing seems almost perfect."

Jacob looked at Hermione questioningly, not quite understanding why she thought so.

"Dumbledore," she said, replying to the unasked question, "would have been aware that either the Alpha would not have gone on his Spirit Quest yet, or that he would still be on it at the time. Either way, with the Alpha and strongest link absent or incomplete, the outcome of the assault was more likely to be favorable."

"That does make sense," Jacob said, begrudging but still seeing the logic. "Didn't count on me getting back early, though, did he?"

"No, he did not," Harry responded. "And he also did not count on you having the extent of control that you do, or power."

Jacob's frown deepened at that.

"Why is that?" he asked with no conceit. In fact, it seemed to Edward that he was more wary of this newfound power he had acquired. He looked to Jasper when he heard approval in his thoughts, and saw him show that in a nod. Jacob did not seem to notice, however, distracted as he was by needing an answer. "How is it that I was able to send them away? They must be really strong if they were able to do _this_ to my pack, but they didn't even try to attack me. I just howled a couple of times and they ran off. Some looked like they bowed first! What does that mean?"

Harry exchanged a quick, but meaningful look with Hermione before answering.

"We are not entirely certain," he began slowly, holding up his hand when he saw that Jacob would interrupt. "Though, we do have a theory. I'm not sure you would be very agreeable to it…."

"Doesn't matter," replied Jake gruffly, steeling himself for whatever he was about to hear. "Tell me anyway."

Another look, a nod from Hermione, and Harry explained as best he could.

"We believe you are the Alpha."

No one said anything for a moment, confused.

"But we all know that already," huffed Jacob, disappointed with the apparent lack of new information.

"No," said Hermione, teacher-mode shining through. "We believe you are _the _Alpha, the Alpha of Alphas."

Jake took an involuntary step back, the weight of her words seeming to physically hit him.

"That's not… Is that… There's no such thing!"

The Quileute Alpha stumbled through his words, not knowing if he should believe, but not quite aware of how to dispute it either. Bella stood, still a bit shaky, but steadier than she was, and walked over to him. She placed a hand upon his shoulder in comfort. This did not seem enough for Jacob, however, who put an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him and allowing her support to calm him, at least a bit.

"There is," Harry countered solemnly. "The last one was a werewolf. I believe there never has been a shape-shifter supreme Alpha before, though…."

He looked to Hermione here for affirmation on this last statement, and she nodded her agreement. When Jake did not respond, Hermione took over the explanations.

"At the moment, it isn't confirmed that you are supreme Alpha," she said, shaking her sympathetically head when Jacob looked at her hopefully, "but it is likely. There are other criteria you have to meet in order to show, for sure, that you are as we believe. You haven't yet, and we shall let you know if you do, for nothing can be forced. Everything must come to you naturally, in the time and order that they should – no interference."

"Judging from the fact that the Lycans seemed to revere you," said Harry, continuing where Hermione left off, "is quite a strong indicator, Jacob. Lycans… Lycans are monsters in the truest sense. They know no worship, they know no loyalty. There is no human underneath the beast. It is what it is and can be nothing else. Lycans are malicious creatures, void of any emotion. The only thing it can bring itself to feel is anger really. I suppose you could mistake it for hate at times, but actually it's just aggression in its extreme form. Lycans only know the most basic of all instincts – survival. This means that they know how to feed and they know how to kill, but that is _all_ they know. There is nothing else – they're hollow. That they would not only run from you, but see you as superior as well is… rather telling."

The weight of Harry's words seemed to sit heavily with every individual present. They understood, at once, the immense threat that such a creature – with no ties, no loyalty and no feelings – could be.

"If they know no loyalty," began Jasper slowly, "then why do they seem loyal to Jacob?"

"They aren't," answered Hermione simply.

"They simply will not cross Jacob," put in Harry. "That's about as far as their capacity to actually think goes. It forms part of the survival instinct – don't actively oppose that which can destroy you. But it most certainly is not loyalty. They aren't even loyal to their own kind! They are loners by nature because they cannot work as a unit; they tend to rip each other apart."

"Then how is it that the Volturi are making use of them?" asked Carlisle, seeing the effort and risks involved in attempting such a thing.

"Close monitoring and a lot of time and effort," said Hermione by way of answer.

"Dumbledore is a patient being," said Harry, but not as though complimenting him. "He is a chess player, and a brilliant one at that. He has time – he knows this and takes full advantage of it."

"And how exactly did the Italian coven come to control these beasts?" asked Jasper, easily shifting into his no-nonsense mode of conduct. "Dumbledore?"

"Yes. They are breeding them," answered Harry, to the point since he realized that this would be most appreciated.

"To what end?" asked Carlisle, appalled even though he had never actually come across a Lycan before.

"Well, for one," said Harry, keeping his tone even, "mindless beings tend to make the best soldiers when it comes to an all out, take-no-prisoners war. They are, generally, extremely powerful, but with no sense to plot against the leader, seeing as how they have no real thought processes apart from what I highlighted earlier."

"You told us that Lycans were the very first kind of werewolf in existence," said Jasper, a pensive look on his face as he began to pace. Edward could not help but smile at the familiarity of the action. The empath tended to do this every time he was assimilating knowledge that he felt was vital, and when he was agitated due to just how much he did not know. "But werewolves are not able to harm Vampires as Lycans are. Is it the venom, then, that allows Lycans to be able to cut through the skin of a Vampire?" he enquired, already attempting to find ways to defend against Lycans.

"Partly," responded Harry. "The strength of their claws and bones aid them as well. Their bones are strong enough to withstand the jarring shock of hitting a Vampire, and the sharpness and power of their claws allows for the strikes to follow through. The amount of force they are able to apply to their blows also helps. But, yes, I'd imagine it is the venom that causes the actual break of skin, where Vampires are concerned."

"You only managed to give us some of the physical differences at the time," Jasper said then. "Are there any other distinctions?"

"The biggest one is what I've just told you," said Harry, thinking carefully so that he did not leave anything important out. "The fact that they are hollow is not something they share with werewolves. Even during a full moon, and even though werewolves don't retain their human minds in their transformed states, they cannot be said to be empty. They still feel, they still think. Although you should know that Lycans are able to not only turn humans to further their species, but are also able to give birth to the same end."

"Another advantage to them," said Jasper, immediately understanding the implications.

"What exactly would happen to the human, once bitten?" asked Alice quietly, clearly distressed. Jasper placed his arm around her, soothing her silently.

"They change for the first time by the light of the full moon," replied Harry gravely. "They do change back into their human form, but only up until their third transformation. Once they transform for the third time… they never change back. Their human selves are lost forever; not a shred remains, not even in the mind."

The silence of the dead took over the clearing at that pronouncement. Any being, with a crumb of compassion, would feel the deep sorrow such a consequence afforded.

"Why have we never heard of such a creature?" asked Carlisle, attempting to compose himself. Edward knew, due to his gift as well as deep knowledge of the kind of person his Sire was, that such an empathetic man would feel the loss associated with Lycan transformation profoundly – even if he weren't directly involved or implicated in any way.

"Yeah," Emmett cut in then, also trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "They would have no control whatsoever, right? There would definitely be evidence to their existence, since they wouldn't exactly be covering their tracks."

Harry smiled humorlessly. "Indeed," he concurred with a nod, "if they had been around to cause such destruction."

"What do mean?" asked Rosalie sharply, eyes narrowed. "You just said –"

Harry stopped her, raising his hand so that he may clarify.

"Up until a month ago, maybe two," he began slowly, sounding as though this was going to be difficult to explain, but trying nonetheless, "Lycans were an extinct race. Their species continued in the form of werewolves, but their particular kind had died out a long time ago – long before any of our births."

"Up until a month ago?" asked Jasper incredulously. "How does one revive an extinct race? It's not possible!"

"I'm afraid it is," Harry disagreed, meeting his gaze. "If one were to find just the right genetics, and couple that with just the right magic, in just the right way, with a powerful enough Necromancer…. I'm afraid that it is _very_ possible – not only possible, but that it has been done."

The hush that fell over them all at that moment could only have been expected. Edward himself was in complete shock. How many times could they have their world turned over before they lost track, absolutely, over which way was up, and which was down?

"I…" began Carlisle, his eyes wide and a slight tremble making its way through his body. Esme moved over to him and he held her close, seeking comfort and also wanting to assure himself that she was still there, with him. "What does one say to that?"

"That's an awful lot of trouble to go through simply to build an army," said Jasper, pulling himself together as much as he was able. He still did not know how to believe what he had just been told, but was wary to discount it – especially if it could save their lives, knowing such things. "Why not proposition beings already in existence? Why resurrect a race?"

"You do know just the right question to ask, don't you?" Hermione said to Jasper, not able to keep from being impressed.

"I have a knack for it, I suppose," Jasper responded with a tilt of his head.

"And a good thing it is," said Harry, unable to distract his mind, it seemed, from what he was about to tell them. "The reason behind the resurrection has to do with, what we believe is, Dumbledore's true endgame. There is a plane of existence, another dimension – for want of a better term – that was sealed eons ago. This is where most supernatural species once lived, before coming to this world. It was a dimension where nothing natural existed – no natural animals or creatures, no human beings – only the supernatural. It was a dimension known simply as The Core."

Edward gasped in surprise and Harry turned to gaze at him with a sad smile. The Vampire had heard of this dimension before, in the time he had lived with his Chosen in his world. It described to him, explained to him. His mind whirled, attempting to put all the pieces together and coming up short. He feared what Harry was about to say next, though.

Harry nodded sorrowfully. "He wishes to reopen The Core," he said plainly.

Edward let out the breath, which he did not know he had been holding, in a sudden gust – as though someone had punched him in the gut. No one else, understandably, appreciated exactly what such a thing meant, but gathered from Harry's tone and Edward's reaction that it was a bad thing.

"There is a reason," said Hermione urgently, taking over after realizing this, "that The Core was closed. That dimension had been overrun by darkness. The balance had tipped to far to salvage anything. It had to be sealed in order to save most of our species, as well as those of the Natural world. If it is ever reopened, I… I fear that we may not stand a chance. I fear that any fight we put then would be futile."

Her voice cracked as she finished speaking, her emotions overwhelming her momentarily.

"How bad, exactly, are we looking at this being?" asked Carlisle, needing more than a generalization and 'what ifs' where his family were concerned.

Harry was silent for a while, simply gazing at Carlisle and then at all those around him, weighing how honest to be. Taking a deep breath, he came to his decision and spoke.

"It would be," he said gravely, looking them each in the eye to convey his seriousness, "like the Apocalypse."

**A…A**

Deep underground, there was a small chamber that looked to be carved directly in a mountain. Its walls were of rough rocks, no one having bothered to smooth them out, which resulted in them having many sharp, jagged edges. The sandy floor, at least, was level, though this hardly made it comfortable. This was a prison with but a single occupant. Old blood, his own, as well as his bodily excretions decorated the corners of the 'room'. He had long ago got used to the smell so that, now, he hardly registered the stench at all.

What little space he had to walk over, though, was steadily getting smaller and smaller. Tall as the cavern was, it was tiny in width. High above, a single lamp was the only source of light; this meant that the damp chamber was indeed quite dark. Only one end had no wall, but it was by no means open. Thick metal cell bars closed off this side of it, glowing with an eerie, unearthly light.

The young man imprisoned here stood at a respectable height of about six feet and an inch. He had dark, curly brown hair, cropped short, and lovely tan skin. Or, at least, it had once been lovely. At present, it was marred by deep, angry scratches – as if he had tried to scrape his own skin off, claw his way out of his own body, in an attempt to escape, to end it all. The hazel eyes, at one time, probably, so vibrant, were empty now, void of life, and of all will to live.

This teenager's time seemed to be split between good days and bad days. There were times when he recognized nothing; times when he didn't know who he was, not even his name, or what he looked like. He had days when he remembered nothing of his life up to that moment; days when he did nothing but stare off into space, thinking nothing, feeling nothing, being nothing. Those were his good days.

Today, unfortunately, was a bad day.

Today he remembered. Today he knew that his name was Tyler Crowley. He knew that he was the only son of Beth and John Crowley; he knew that he had once attended Fork's High School and that he had had quite a few friends, great friends; he knew that he had been well-known and well-liked; he knew that he had been thinking of joining the basketball team, that he would have been good at it.

Today he knew that he was in a place far away from that life. He was in a place that he did not belong, a place of nightmares brought to life. He knew that he had been taken against his will; he knew that he had been tainted, horrifically changed from the inside.

Today he knew he was becoming a monster.

"_Help_!" he shouted desperately.

He knew that no one could hear him, knew that there was no one to help him, that he was alone. He couldn't give up, however. He had to… do something, anything – even if that meant screaming for nothing.

He had done this so many times before; he was sure that his throat was torn to shreds on the inside – which was probably the reason he sometimes coughed up blood. His voice, along with his throat, was raw and scratchy – he hardly recognized it anymore. He wondered if he would ever be able to speak properly ever again.

Then he thought of those who kept him imprisoned and the truth hit him squarely in the chest. He would never need to speak again. He would never be free again. If they ever let him out of this cell, it would mean only one thing: he would have become the monster they'd wanted to turn him into. Panic seeped into him then, thick and strong and cold. It overpowered him. He threw himself at the metal bars, caring nothing for the jolts of pain that went through him.

"HELP!" he screamed out again, the sheer anguish so clear in his voice. "Somebody _please save me_!"

The walls seemed to close in on him. The darkness, even though he could see through it, seemed to thicken. He felt it like physical pressure as he dropped to his knees, still holding onto the bars.

"HEEEELLLPP MMMMEEEEE!"

**/A\**

**Author's Note:** Hope everyone enjoyed. As always, let me know what you thought. Thank you! :)


	10. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Hi all! Things have been pretty intense up to this point, but they are going to get even more intense going forward. As such, this felt like the perfect place to insert something of a filler. The events in this chapter are important, to a certain extent, but this is more of a breather.

Thank you to everyone reading this fic! Much appreciated. Once again, I hope you enjoy :)

**/A\**

_I see your dirty face_

_High behind your collar_

_What is done in vain_

_Truth is hard to swallow_

_So you pray to God_

_To justify the way you live a lie…_

_And you take your time_

_And you do your crime_

_Well you made your bed_

_I'm in mine…_

_Now the son's disgraced_

_He who knew his father_

_When he cursed his name_

_Turned and chased the dollar_

_But it broke his heart_

_So he stuck his middle finger to the world…_

_And you take your time_

_And you stand in line_

_Well you'll get what's yours_

_I got mine_

_Because when I arrive_

_I, I'll bring the fire_

_Make you come alive_

_I can take you higher_

_What this is, forgot?_

_I must now remind you_

_Let it rock, let it rock, let it rock_

_And I wish I could be_

_As cruel as you_

_And I wish I could say_

_The things you do_

_But I can't and I won't live a lie_

_No, not this time_

»Kevin Rudolph – Let It Rock«

**/A\**

Chapter Nine:

A single tall tower stood over a manor, all stone work, somewhere in the heart of Europe. It used to be a battlement, back when it was first constructed. Now, however, its primary function was as an astronomy tower, and also to view the sunrises and sunsets – which were rather spectacular this high up.

To one side of the tower, sprawling green hills stretched on for miles before ending at the edge of a great, if imposing, forest that consisted mostly of tall fir trees. To another side, as far as the eye could see, the ocean opened out. The setting sun cast a brilliant glow across its surface, causing it to shimmer in a most ethereal way, making one wonder if it something so stunning could be real. The sight truly was idyllic.

A waist high ledge went all the way around the tower's edge. Sitting upon this wall, facing the sea with a supremely serene countenance, was a seemingly middle-aged man. His golden brown hair, shoulder length, was tied back with a simple black satin ribbon. He was rather slim, though the way he held himself spoke of an inner strength. His eyes, of a light, sparkling blue color, were so familiar and beheld a more accurate indication of the man's age. It was in the man's eyes that one could see wisdom – wisdom that could only come from hard experiences over a long period of time.

"I cannot say that I am very surprised to see you, Albus," the man said calmly, never removing his gaze from the view.

It did not shock Albus in the least that he was, apparently, expected. He had known Nicholas Flamel for many centuries now. He knew his unflappable need for caution – bordering on paranoia – as well as his need for control – which came from his first, and foremost, nature as a scientist.

"Good evening, old friend," responded Albus, his tone soft and jovial, belying the true intention behind this particular 'visit'. But he would not think on that now; he would much rather enjoy a small chat with his long-time acquaintance.

"Friend?" asked Nicholas in a politely curious tone, as though the notion were somehow foreign to him, and unconsciously disputing Albus' thoughts. "Friend is a bit idealistic, don't you think, Albus?"

"Perhaps," Albus answered lightly, understanding and admiring the other man's rescinding of their previous, amicable association. "I do respect you, though, Nicholas. I always have."

"Ah, but friendship is hardly a prerequisite for respect, is it?" said the brunet, would-be good humor lacing his voice. "One does not even have to like another in order to respect him or her."

"True enough," said the Ancient in return, nodding his acquiescence. "I cannot bring myself to see you in any other way, however, dear Nicholas. If it were not for you, after all, I would not even be here."

"Indeed," replied Nicholas in a darkly amused undertone. He turned around then, sliding off the ledge and facing Albus fully. His expression was still quite serene, that of a rare and lucky man who knew inner peace. There was a hard glint in his gaze, however.

"Are you going to kill me now, Albus?" he asked, rather forthright. His genial tone contradicted his query, making the situation seem very ironic, and almost surreal.

"No!" scoffed Albus, a pseudo-warm chuckle escaping him and a twinkle entering his crimson eyes. "Not just yet, Nicholas. These things have a certain order to them. If one wishes to acquire positive results, one must adhere to this order."

"And you are this 'one'?" enquired Nicholas, though his tone suggested that he already knew the answer.

"I am, yes," Albus answered, some pride in his voice now. "I am going to make history, Nicholas! I am going to change the world as it is known. It is what I have always dreamed of, even as a human."

"But at what cost, _old friend_?" the elder of the two asked, still civil, though a hard edge had crept into his voice now.

"No price is too high to pay," replied the Vampire firmly, brooking no argument. On this, Albus would not change his mind. "Not in this instance."

"That," Nicholas said, sounding more tired, and so much older than he looked, "is a matter of opinion."

"Good thing, then," responded Albus, his tone once again airy, "that I am not taking anyone else's opinion into account."

"Also a matter of opinion, I believe," Nicholas said, his demeanor more affable now, as well. "Shall we?"

Albus smiled. He had known that this endeavor would not have been an effort. Ignoring the little niggling feeling in the back of his mind, the one that said something was not quite right, the Vampire nodded.

"After you, Nicholas," said Albus, gesturing cordially for Nicholas to precede him. "After you."

**A…A**

Harry stood at the edge of a roped off square of land, situated towards the center of the field. It was slightly larger than a boxing ring, but served a similar purpose. Within this zone, sparring matches were held, most often in pairs, but sometimes in groups as well.

Currently, he was monitoring a sparring match between Bradford Yorkie and a newly healed Paul Hunt. Off to the side, a small group (with a mix of Quileute pack, Cullen and Forks Council members) stood by, awaiting their turn to join in. Not all of them would participate, naturally, as some of them (such as Eric Yorkie and Mike Newton) were better suited to tasks off the field.

Seeing as they had some time before the next full moon cycle, the time at which Harry and Hermione believed Dumbledore would next attack (when the Lycans were at full power again), many of these combat training sessions had been taking place. Wisely, though, they were not only using their time to spar, but also to interact with one another – the Cullens with the Council of Forks with the Quileute tribe, and interchanging among those three separate factions.

The point was not only to know each other better, and become familiar with everyone's roles and skills, but also to become one solid unit – at least as much as they could be. The coming war was so much bigger than they were, even put together, and the stakes so unbelievably high, that anything less may well spell their untimely end.

And so, as soon as they were well enough again, Jacob had quickly and efficiently filled his pack in on all they needed to know and they had all got to work. Considering the time and effort that Carlisle had put in to helping and healing them, the pack were not against strengthening their alliance with the Cullen family. This eased quite a bit of pressure; unnecessary rivalry and antagonism only created unnecessary tension. And the greater this tension was, the better the chances that they would all snap under it.

This was easily understood and everyone made a decidedly earnest effort to forge solid connections, if not true friendships. It would do; for their ultimate purpose, it would do.

Harry felt a presence come up beside him and turned to acknowledge this. Jasper, it turned out, had decided to join him where he stood. The soldier watched the sparring match for a few moments, his interest undeniable. Harry could almost see the empath's critiques on the proceedings. His lips twitched. It was good, familiar even, to have such experienced fighters involved. Harry found himself grateful.

"You mentioned, previously," said Jasper, breaking their silence, but not his gaze on the field, "that Mrs. Stanley is the weapons expert."

He paused and Harry confirmed his statement with a single nod.

"Why would we require a weapons specialist," Jasper continued, "if most human weaponry does not work effectively against many supernatural beings – especially Vampires?"

"We are looking to expand upon Hermione's idea of combining magic and technology," Harry answered, still closely observing the pseudo-match, but aware enough to accurately respond as well. "We believe we can do the same with magic and weapons. It would be different to the method we used with the technology, of course. With technology we were able to incorporate the machine's own processes in the development – make them work with the magic. With the weapons, on the other hand, we would have to imprint the specialized magic into whatever it is we use, as arms are completely dormant."

"Thus expanding the arms limitations," Jasper said, grasping Harry's explanations quickly and well enough, "and having them 'remember', so to say, that they can do more."

"Exactly," said Harry, turning to face the empath with a grim smile. "We are hoping to gain something of an upper hand with a specialized arsenal."

"Let's hope it works out," replied Jasper solemnly.

**A…A**

"Argh…!"

Bella groaned as she once again found herself flat on the ground. She was certain that her back was already riddled with a lovely patchwork of bruises, and she was even more certain that she'd be getting a whole lot more in the near future.

"Still so sure that you're confidence isn't misplaced?" she asked as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"Absolutely!" was Jessica's annoyingly enthusiastic response, her grin wide and unwavering as she held out her hand to help Bella to her feet. "Clumsiness can be cured! We just have to work at it and work at it, constantly – never giving in, never giving up! You can do this, Bella! Trust me, before you know it, you'll be rid of this tendency to kiss the floor."

Bella sent a semi-heated glare in Jessica's direction at that description, but breathed deeply and steadied herself for the next round of balance training – as they'd dubbed it. As soon as they were able, Jessica and Angela had begun her workout. If she was to claim her place as part of the Council of Forks, which she was now set on doing, she had many years to catch up on. Also, more currently, if she wished to be more than fodder when this war hit, then she had to learn to defend herself. As such, the first thing they decided to tackle was her innate clumsiness.

She wasn't as sure, though, that her lifelong gracelessness could be cured, but she did trust Jessica and Angela. She knew that if there was anyone who could help her, it was the two of them. For one, they had both already been through everything they were putting her through and, for another, they were _extremely_ patient with her.

Not once had either Jessica or Angela made her feel inadequate, or as though they felt that they were wasting their time. In fact, it was Bella, herself, more often than not feeling as though _she_ were the one squandering their time. They never hesitated to tell her different, however. Jessica and Angela made sure she knew that this was necessary and worthwhile; they wouldn't have bothered otherwise. It was for this reason that Bella could always make herself get up again, dust herself off and try harder.

"Catch, Bella," Angela called out suddenly, throwing a long, light wooden pole to her.

This was the apparatus she was made to use in order to help her better her balance. Bella would walk along a thick wooden plank, about four feet off the ground (not that high, she would admit, but it still hurt every time she managed to fall off), holding the wooden pole, horizontally, with both hands, arms outstretched – much like tightrope walkers.

Instinctively, Bella threw out her hands in order to catch the staff, but not really with any hope that she would. Many a times before, Angela or Jessica had done the same thing and she'd ended up being hit on the arm or shoulder or even her face (once), when she'd failed to grasp the pole in time.

She squeezed her eyes shut now, as an automatic reaction, expecting the same thing to happen. The blow never came, though.

Flexing her fingers, Bella felt the staff within both her hands and she slowly opened her eyes, confirming this with sight, as well. She'd caught it.

"I caught it!" she gasped out, astounded at herself, her shocked smile wide on her face.

She knew that this was a rather small, insignificant thing to get excited about – many children could have managed the same feat without any difficulty. But considering her coordination (or lack thereof) and clumsiness, Bella did indeed feel that this was a moment to remember. She could always laugh at her seemingly exaggerated reaction in hindsight. For now, however, she felt quite justified in her wonder.

"I caught it!" she exclaimed again, louder this time, and accompanied by Angela's and Jessica's laughter and joyous whoops on her behalf.

"Well done, Bella!" said Jessica, coming up to her and thumping her on her shoulder. "Now let's get you up on the beam and try to keep you there, shall we?"

"For at least five times across, consecutively," added Angela with a mirthful grin.

There was always something, Bella thought to herself – another step to take, something more to achieve. Success could never last too long.

Bella groaned again, climbing up on the plank as instructed.

Here we go again, she thought.

**A…A**

"Spar with me," Edward said suddenly, a beautiful, dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Edward!" responded Harry, an incredulous grin on his face. "I know you've begun to train again, but you must bear in mind that you have been out of practice for a very long time. One step at a time, my love."

"One cannot cross such a chasm in small steps, beautiful," Edward replied calmly, clearly unwilling to be deterred. "I must make one great leap, or I'll not make it."

For a long moment, Harry simply gazed at his Chosen, admiring his tenacity as well as his steadfast composure. A small crowd was beginning to form around the two of them, interested in watching such a match as much as they were in the result of it. Harry, and Edward, paid them no mind; they had eyes only for each other and the electricity between them positively crackled.

"Very well, Edward," Harry finally answered, facing his mate fully and taking on the proper defensive stance, watching as the Vampire did the same. "I shall indulge you."

Edward smirked, pleased. "Don't hold back."

Harry laughed out loud at that.

"You have not trained in any way for the past seventy-three years, soul," said Harry lightly, his eyes shining with warmth and adoration. "Of course I'm going to hold back."

Edward did not respond verbally, but did spare his beloved a wide, affectionate smile before he attacked.

They started off slowly, dodging and ducking around each other's advances, getting a feel of their opponent. Soon enough, however, the pace picked up and then steadily continued to accelerate. The attacks got more and more aggressive, the punches and kicks and flips executed with such speed, accuracy and skill that hardly anyone was left unimpressed – most especially by Edward, whom no one had expected such proficiency from, at least where combat was concerned.

It was clear to everyone, nonetheless, that Harry was, by far, the more exceptional of the two, considering his extensive training (and then some) – even if he made no use of his extra gifts, like magic. It was also rather apparent that the young being truly was going easier on Edward than he would have on any real foe. This only added to the awe he caused in those watching the display.

The fight came to an end when Harry perfectly performed triple roundhouse kicks (two with one foot on the ground, and one completely in the air). The moves were like something out of a brilliantly choreographed action movie and, judging by the smirk on Harry's face and the gleam in his eyes, this was done purely for the flash factor.

Undeniably, though, it was effective, sending Edward careening backwards. Amazingly, however, the Vampire did not crash into anything, managing to neatly flip himself over, mid-air, to land lightly on his feet, only sliding back about three feet or so.

"Not bad, love," said Harry, eyes shining from the feeling one can usually get from a good sparring session.

"Still not quite where I used to be, however," Edward responded, though not disenchanted in the least. In fact, the Vampire seemed rather excited to have the room to improve.

"Not quite," Harry agreed with a small shrug, "but you will definitely get there."

Edward spared his love no more than a single nod before he attacked again, with greater fervor.

He was back – and he was loving it.

**A…A**

"So…" said Bella slowly, coming to sit next to Edward where he had situated himself in order to better watch Harry and Jasper spar. "Are you bisexual?"

Edward chuckled heartily as Bella reddened. It seemed she had not meant to start the conversation that way, and had blurted out, unconsciously, the question she really wanted an answer to.

Edward gazed at her warmly, amused.

"I suppose you could see it that way," he answered gently, smiling kindly at the teenaged girl. "It is not a very accurate term in this case, however."

"Why is that?" asked Bella, still blushing, but more confident now that she was not overstepping any bounds.

"Such categories do not apply amongst the supernatural, Bella," the Vampire replied. "There is no straight, gay or bisexual; only one distinction matters, regarding mating, where we are concerned."

"And what distinction is that?"

"Bonded or not bonded," said Edward simply, before elaborating. "When we find our mate, our Chosen, our destined – whatever term you wish to use – they are exactly as they should be. Color, creed, race, gender – these things may have an effect in some way or another, but not where the love, or eventual love, is concerned. Gaps are bridged; whole chasms are closed. We accept and come to love our mates for exactly what and who they are. Considering the weight and value we place on our bonding, the little things tend not to matter so much. Obstacles can be overcome, especially together. This is why it is so very devastating to lose a mate, especially if the bond is complete."

"So, it's quite a simple thing, then?" Bella joked, while understanding that it was anything but. Edward thought it was probably easier for her to comprehend this, seeing as how Jacob had found his Chosen in her, as well as her close link to the Supernatural world.

"Many seem to believe so," countered the telepath with a nostalgic smile, remembering how he once thought that everything would just slot into place once he'd found his Chosen, like a puzzle that put itself together. He learned quickly that this was not the case. The more value something has, the more effort needs to be made to attain and then keep it. It was, in great part, the effort that made anything worth having valuable, after all.

"It is not easy, however," continued Edward pensively, "to not be bonded in our world. Aside from one's mate, one can find very little to hold on to, to hold dear and care for. Those that are not bonded tend not to have much to live for. And considering that we live, more often than not, for eternity, this creates quite a problem. It's different, of course, for those of us who live in close communities, or have managed to create and maintain families such as Carlisle has. We have found our own means of belonging. Thus, we have an easier, or less despondent, time here."

Bella nodded her understanding. She may not be able to fully appreciate what Edward was telling her, but he knew she got the gist of it, at least.

"So, you and Harry," she said, taking a deep breath, gathering her courage to ask what she wanted to know. "When did you two bond? It just… it doesn't seem like it's a recent thing…."

"It isn't," replied Edward, a broad smile on his face that he would not have been able to hold back, even if he tried. "We began our bonding in the year of nineteen twenty-nine, going on nineteen thirty. We completed our bonding about three years later."

Bella's eyes widened slightly. Edward supposed she had been expecting a history between them, but did not fully comprehend it until then. A number of questions seemed to flit through her mind before she settled on one.

"What happened?" she whispered, astonished. Trust Bella to hit on the most poignant question, the Vampire thought fondly.

"A betrayal, unlike I have ever known," he answered softly, a far-off look in his eyes, his smile fading away.

Edward would not say more on the matter just then, and Bella understood, asking no more.

**A…A**

Hermione sat inside the gazebo, alone, watching the goings-on out on the field. To be truthful, however, she was not really seeing much, her mind being elsewhere.

It had been an entire day, she noted, since her mate had run off. _Mate_, thought Hermione, as a smile stretched on her face. The word still sent a delightful shiver down her spine, pooling warmly in her belly. For so long she had never even dared allow herself to hope – for was it not foolish, to hope for such happiness, to hope for infallible love, in a war-torn world (the only world she had ever really known)? And yet... here she was.

Of course, she would feel infinitely better if her mate were actually with her, Hermione thought to herself. And just then, as though summoned, the scent of her mate wafted over her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took in the divine aroma, allowing it to warm her from the inside out.

She said nothing, though. Hermione had a feeling that her destined would prefer some semblance of control right then. If that meant initiating the conversation, then so be it.

"I think," began Leah Clearwater slowly, taking a seat next to Hermione without touching her, but not meeting her gaze, "that I should probably apologize. For running off earlier, I mean."

Hermione smiled a warm and genuine smile, gazing tenderly at her. "I understand. At least, I believe I do."

"Believe?" asked Leah, cocking her head to the side, still avoiding Hermione's eyes.

"I would, at some point," clarified the Vampire lightly, "like for you to be able to tell me about your reasons, about yourself entirely. But I can wait for you, Leah. I have no problems with that."

The female shifter was silent for a long while, just staring out over the field unseeingly.

"I was convinced that I would never find my Imprint," she then said, taking her time to explain, but doing so sincerely. "I believed that there was no one out there for me, but also that having anyone would be impossible. I mean, if the purpose of imprinting is to continue the shape-shifter line – what use am I?"

She paused for a moment, laughing humorlessly at her situation.

"And now that I find my Imprint," she continued, her tone biting in its carelessness, "not only do you turn out to be female, but you're also a _Vampire_! I am the ultimate cosmic joke, aren't I?"

This last question was asked softly, as though Leah were talking more to herself than to Hermione.

"I know I'm one of the abhorred leeches," said Hermione gently, her tone neither accusatory nor condemning, but holding only understanding, "but I can assure you, I really am not _that_ bad."

Leah's eyes widened as she realized what she had just said, and so bluntly at that, about and to her own Imprint.

"Oh!" she blurted out, her eyes finally coming up to meet Hermione's, and holding all her guilt and penance. "No! I'm so sorry! I didn't… I wasn't… Oh!"

Hermione chuckled softly, clearly finding her mate endearing. Tentatively, she reached out and laid her hand upon the shifter's shoulder.

"It is all right," she assured Leah kindly, willing the young woman to hold her gaze. Once she was certain that her beautiful mate would not turn away, Hermione continued. "I was only teasing, I promise you. I would like, very much, if you would give me the chance to show you, though. I will all I can never to disappoint you, Leah. But I can appreciate how… unfair this must seem to you, and how difficult to accept."

Leah was emphatically shaking her head, even before the female Vampire had finished speaking.

"But that's just it!" the shifter blurted out, trying to clarify and convince in one go. "This isn't unfair! I wondered, for the longest time, why that was so. I fully expected to feel angry and… and wronged. And I just wasn't. Then I tried to get myself to adjust and I realized… I realized that there was nothing to adjust to! Everything felt as it should. I, _finally_, feel exactly as I should. No resentment, no anger, no spite – just… a kind of peace. I feel so _free _now!

"And when I could appreciate all of that, I didn't want to run anymore – at least, not in the opposite direction. I mean, I actually have you! And no matter how different this is to what I would have imagined, if I had given myself the chance to, that doesn't mean that I want to screw it up! I really don't! I would like for us to work, Hermione – no matter what it takes. I need this. I need you. I feel that much, at least, even if it isn't love just yet."

Hermione positively beamed.

"That's a better start than I could have hoped for," she said happily, smiling widely at her mate. "We'll go as slow as you need, Leah. I swear to you."

Leah could only return the smile in all its glory. Vampire or not, female or not, she was being given the rare and beautiful opportunity to bond – to be ungrateful now would be blasphemous.

**A…A**

"Boot camp!" Jessica yelled in her usually enthusiastic voice, even now at just shy of five in the morning.

Bella, who had just arrived at the field, flask of coffee in hand, dropped her kitbag incredulously.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, hoping fiercely that she'd misunderstood.

"Well, it won't really be like boot camp," admitted Jessica, walking over and, thankfully, toning down her crazy zest a bit. "But we will be doing boot camp drills."

"Boot camp drills," repeated Bella faintly, trying not too feel too much trepidation.

"Yep," said Jessica, unable to contain her excitement – for what exactly Bella had trouble understanding. "So finish up your coffee and get your butt out there!"

"Right," Bella muttered, though her friend didn't hear her; Jessica was already running off to the training area she and Angela had set up for her.

Sighing dejected, Bella finished up knowing that she could not stall much longer, and that it would be pointless to try. She wanted to train, she really did. And she wanted to learn as much as she could in the short time they had. She had just never fully appreciated how difficult it was going to be. Well, she knew better now, she thought as she shook her head at her own naivety.

"So, first things first," said Angela, not quite as peppy as Jessica, but still wide awake and gung-ho, "you need to warm up."

"Right, warm up," said Bella, feeling a little relieved – that is, until she saw Jessica. The girl had a smile on her face that instantly bled the brief feeling from her. Bella groaned softly.

"Chin up, Bell," said Angela, bumping her shoulder in encouragement. "We need to get your fitness up and boot camp drills, scary as they sound, are the best way of doing that."

Bella nodded. She understood; she even agreed. It was just painful work.

"Can't I just become a Vampire?" she asked jokingly. It was no secret how reluctant Bella was to work out.

"Oh, Bella," said Jessica in mock-sympathy. "You'd still be pretty useless in a fight, even as a Vamp."

"Newborns are loads stronger than any other Vampire, though," Bella argued, playing along. "I could get by on brute strength alone."

"Yes, and newborns are also loads more bloodthirsty than any other Vampire," said Angela patiently, as though re-explaining a simple rule to a child.

"Which means," continued Jessica, taking on the same tone, "that you won't be able to tell friend from foe – you'll just go where the blood is. And, quite frankly, I like my blood where it is."

Bella rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "Yes, yes, all right. I get it. No pain, no gain."

"Excellent," said Angela, clapping her hands together and signaling the start of the torture. "Now, once you've done your pre-workout stretches, for your warm ups you'll be doing jumping jacks and then jump rope."

"Okay," agreed Bella with a firm nod, willing herself to get into the right frame of mind. "I can do that."

Jessica and Angela moved back a few paces, giving her room to complete the stretching. As soon as she was done with that, Jessica spoke up.

"Okay," she said in full drill sergeant mode. "You'll do jumping jacks for a full minute, then you'll jump rope for another minute, then you'll repeat. So, in total, a four minute warm up. Ready?"

Bella nodded.

"Go for it, then," said Angela, blowing on a whistle to officially start her training.

At the end of the four minutes Bella's heart was beating so fast, it was as though it were trying to escape. She, ready to drop as she was, could sympathize. Angela handed her a bottle of water and a small towel to dry herself off.

"That was… really only… four… minutes?" asked Bella, panting from the exertion.

"And we're only just getting started," said Jessica with a grin. Bella glared.

"Next up," said Angela once Bella was breathing somewhat steadily once again, "H.I.I.T. – High Intensity Interval Training."

"Sounds brutal," muttered Bella.

"In the beginning," agreed Jessica, not willing to sugar-coat anything for her. "But like Eric once said – we'll make you a pro."

"Can't wait," replied the, already sore, teen in a half serious, half sarcastic tone.

"Right," said Angela, undeterred for even a moment. "For this segment, we've marked of a stretch of seventy-five yards here."

She walked over to the area she mentioned, knowing that Jessica and Bella followed.

"For the first interval," she continued, "you'll jog the stretch at a slow to moderate pace and then back at the same rate. For the second interval, you'll sprint the stretch and then back just as fast. You then repeat both intervals. Got it?"

"Run?" asked Bella, semi-fearfully. "I've only just managed to better my balance, you know?"

"Don't stress, Bella," said Jessica encouragingly. "You clumsiness is sorted. You can do this; don't believe otherwise."

Once again, Bella nodded. She knew she could do this; she was just stalling. Again.

"We're taking it a bit easy on you, Bella," said Angela, patting her on the back, "considering you've never trained before in your life. The reps of this part of drills usually total eight, not four."

Bella didn't think she felt too happy that she was so unfit she had to be eased into things, but on the other hand she was grateful. She would probably collapse if she pushed too hard, too fast.

As soon as Bella was at the marked starting point, Angela once again blew the whistle and she set off.

The jog was all right; the sprint was grueling; the repeats, however, were absolutely murderous. And she was far from done. The rest of the day was made up of push-ups, resistance training in the form of lightweight dumbbells, sit-ups, squats and a whole lot of repetitions.

Falling onto her back at the end of the day, Bella felt as though she'd happily never get up again. She was sweaty, exhausted and sore in places she didn't even know could be sore! And this was only her first day!

"Am I going to be doing this everyday?" she asked when she finally felt she could breath well enough to speak.

"Yep," said Jessica simply, she and Angela coming to sit down next to her.

"Shit!" Bella replied, though there was no feeling behind it – she was far too tired.

Jessica and Angela, both, began to laugh.

"Did you just swear, Bella?" asked Angela, amused.

"There's going to be a lot more considering," replied Bella, unfazed.

"We'll make a bad-ass fighter out of you yet, Bella Swan," Jessica said, clearly pleased.

"From tomorrow, Jess and I will be training with you," Angela then informed Bella. "So, at least you'll have company."

"Yes," was Bella's tired response. "I should _not_ have to suffer alone."

Neither Angela nor Jessica would be suffering nearly as much as Bella, they all knew, but it went unsaid.

"When you're up to par," continued Jess, excitement creeping into her tone, "then we'll move on to the next step – fighting."

"What are you going to teach me?"

"Basic martial arts and street fighting," answered Angela. "There's no time to give a proper, formal education where martial arts is concerned. For now, we'll just show you how to hold your own."

"Go home, Bella," said Jessica then, getting up before helping her friend up. "Grab a hot shower and as much sleep as possible."

"Right," said Bella, dusting herself off, "because tomorrow it starts all over again."

"Got it in one," said Jessica.

Waving to her friends as she walked to her truck, Bella could feel every muscle in her body protesting its suffering, but at the same time she felt so empowered. She wasn't just sitting around waiting for a threat to find her; she wasn't doing nothing while others risked their necks for her. She was _involved_.

Finally, Bella was taking a proactive stand and she could not be happier. She would learn. She would fight if she had to. But she would not just wait around to die, like bait on a hook.

Determination spread through her with new fervor and, as she made the drive home, she knew that she would do all she could to not bring anyone else down. She had found what was worth fighting for. She belonged and she'd be damned if she let it go.

**A…A**

"I have a theory," Hermione suddenly stated.

"You always have a theory, Mia," said Harry, an affectionate smile lighting his features.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but did not deign to respond to her closest friend's teasing.

"It is about Edward and Bella," she continued.

As expected, this got Harry's attention. Edward and Bella, who were currently in the gazebo, as well, also perked at Hermione's declaration. They were all currently taking a short respite from the extensive training and strategizing, which had been taking place non-stop for days now.

A slight tension entered Harry now, but only Hermione and Edward knew him well enough to notice this. Indeed, Edward ran a comforting hand up and down Harry's back, attempting to release as much apprehension as he could. Harry had been approached by Edward, the day before, to have a conversation that he would not forget any time soon.

Edward had told him of his previous relationship with Bella, and what he had thought that relationship had meant.

This new awareness had hit Harry in a way that nothing had in a long time. To say that it had stung was an understatement. On an academic level, Harry knew that he had no right to feel upset at Edward, or even hurt at the news. His love had had no recollection of their relationship at all. He did not even remember that Harry existed. It was supremely unfair of him to be resentful of Edward's need to not be alone, and to try and find someone to give him companionship. All he strived for, after all, was his Chosen's happiness.

On a purely emotional level, however, he felt differently. He could not stop the pain he felt, so acutely, at the thought of Edward being with another. This hurt had lessened when he was firmly reassured, by his mate, that he had not consummated the relationship with Bella. In fact, he had been strongly against it, and the idea of turning her. This had appeased Harry, but only just. Physical relationship or not, Edward had given of himself emotionally; he had believed, for a time, that Bella was his mate. This was testament to how strongly the Vampire had felt for the girl. And, for the life of him, Harry could not understand why. Memories or no memories, such an intense feeling should not apply to anyone else if the being was already bonded – and he and Edward had gone so far as to complete their bond. How, then, could such a strong bond have formed between Edward and someone else?

He looked to Hermione, not breaking contact with Edward. It was a petty thing, perhaps, given that he and his mate were now reunited, but he could not deny himself the comfort given. He needed it.

"And what is this theory?" he asked, keeping his voice even.

"A donor bond," Hermione answered simply.

Edward frowned, probably wondering how that would apply; Bella looked confused, as she would not have heard of such a thing before; but Harry became pensive. If Hermione was correct, then this would explain everything that Edward had told him.

"Think about it," Hermione continued excitedly, as she always got when she pieced a puzzle together. "Edward reacted in extremes where Bella was concerned – when her _safety_ was at stake. When you went to Italy, Edward, what was your reason for going? What were the _exact_ words you used?"

Edward thought for a moment before answering. "I had thought: 'it was as if the very means of my survival had been taken away from me'."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Hermione, as though that had explained everything. "Do you see? 'The very means of my survival' – _survival_, Harry. What do Vampires survive on? Blood."

Harry was nodding now, a hesitant smile wanting to make its way onto his face, but not quite managing yet.

"But Edward's never drank my blood," said Bella, more confused than ever. "He said he'd lose control if he did."

"He would have, yes," agreed Hermione, but not put off in the least. "But this answer fits too perfectly. There has to have something, something you aren't considering."

"Edward?" asked Harry slowly, hopefully. "Have you ever had of Bella's blood?"

But Edward was already shaking his head, even though he would know the effect this would have on his love.

"I have deliberately always held myself back around Bella," he said, his tone laced with apology. "I knew I'd lose control, so I was always… so… careful…"

Edward's voice trailed off as his eyes widened slightly in remembrance, it seemed.

"Edward?" asked Harry immediately, his hope slowly knitting itself back together. "What is it?"

"James," said Edward softly, his mind in the past. "When James had Bella – he bit her. I had to suck the venom from her veins so that she wouldn't be turned."

Edward was excited by the time he'd explained this, his joyous gold eyes turned to his love's vibrant green ones.

"I drank Bella's blood then," he finished, almost breathless.

Not able to contain himself, Harry flew at Edward, encasing himself in his love's arms and treating him to a thoroughly satisfying kiss. Edward, it seemed, far from minded, deepening the sensation.

Hermione cleared her throat, more amused than anything. Harry and Edward reluctantly pulled apart.

"But what does that mean?" asked Bella, her puzzlement only increasing. "I don't... understand."

"The donor bond," answered Hermione, a compassionate smile on her face, "is one of the stronger bonds in our world. The only bonds that could be more powerful are two: the bond between Sire and Childe and, of course, the bond between mates. By drinking of your blood, however little it was, the donor bond was initiated."

"So..." Bella began slowly, attempting a nonchalant tone, but not quite managing it. "Edward would have felt like that about anyone he drank from?"

"No," replied Hermione, immediately understanding Bella's doubts. "Willingness, on the part of the would-be donor, is imperative in order for the bond to work. If it is attempted without consent, the bond would never come to be."

"What this particular bond," continued Harry, much more at ease now, "between you and Edward, helps to explain is the extreme nature of Edward's feelings towards you, someone who is not his true mate. You see, Bella, once a supernatural being is bonded, especially where the bond is complete, there is no way to feel that way about another ever again. We mate for life. And the feelings Edward described having for you were too similar to those of mates for me to be comfortable with."

Bella nodded, getting at least the gist of what Harry was saying, while Edward put his arm around his Chosen's waist in reassurrance and comfort.

"And is it normal for the feelings to be so alike?" asked the teenager, now more curious.

"Yes," responded Hermione with a smile. "As neither you nor Edward have much understanding, or knowledge, of the donor bond, it was perfectly natural for you to misinterpret it. If you had been raised in our world, you would have been taught how to properly appreciate and treat donor bonds. You would have been able to correctly recognize it for what it was."

Again, Bella nodded. "How do you know so much about this?" she asked. "I mean, I know you like to research and learn, but... it just seems to be more personal than that."

Hermione smirked at Bella's insight, an expression that was surprising only in that it suited her.

"It is," she agreed easily. "I used to be Harry's donor."

And as Hermione and Bella continued to speak, Harry became less and less interested in the conversation. He had received the explanation and affirmation that he had sought. Looking towards Edward, _his_ Edward, he noted the same lack of interest that he felt. Tucking his face into the crook of Edward's neck, Harry spoke softly enough that he did not disturb the girls' talk.

"I am sorry if I overreacted, Edward," he said thoughtfully.

"You did not," Edward assured firmly, though just as softly. Harry smiled at that.

"I just abhor the thought," he explained nevertheless, "of you being anyone else's. Because you're not. You are mine."

"Only and always," agreed Edward, tightening his hold and breathing deeply, taking in Harry's scent.

"Only and always."

**A…A**

The Lycan and Vampire golems, about eight in total that Harry had conjured for a more practical demonstration, were menacing indeed. At present, they did no more than stand in a wide circle looking ferocious, though. They would do a lot more once the fight actually began. Edward and his mate were currently the only two on the field, in the very center of the circle the golems created. Unlike the other sparring matches, the area needed to be much larger for this particular fight.

Harry had created the golems for the express purpose of coaching those, firstly, who had never come across Lycans (and, therefore would not know the best way of killing them) and, secondly, to further develop the knowledge on how to fight Vampires – especially well trained Vampires. In the gazebo and just in front of it, all the fighters among them had gathered – the Quileute pack, the rest of the Cullen family, Peter and Bradford, Elliot Newton, and Angela and Jessica. They had also got Bella to be present because, while she was still only in her training stages, she needed to be aware of the threats they faced.

Edward had been requested to join him in the demonstration as he had already been through many practical and theoretical training sessions much like this. While the telepath had never had much experience with Lycans, apart from the day they ambushed him not so long previously, his training had been such that he could apply it easily no matter the creature he fought. The Vampire stood just behind his Chosen now, so that the floor, so to speak, was Harry's.

"All right," the young being began, his commanding presence ensuring that he captured and held all attention. "You have already been through the weapons training. We are hoping that this will provide us with an ample advantage, but, while this is important, we cannot rely solely on it to get us through. It is always vital that you be able to defend yourself, even destroy your opponent, without the aid of arms. For now, simply watch as Edward and I battle the golems – but pay careful attention. Once we are done, you will be paired off in two's and three's, taking on a golem or two of your own. The best way to learn is to practice. From there, we will deduce the areas of combat that need improvement. Are we clear?"

Nods and grunts of affirmation were given and Harry nodded in turn, readying himself for the fight and gesturing for Edward to do the same. And with a simple flick of his wrist, Harry activated the golems, making them seem more real than anyone really cared for. This was necessary, however, and no one could dispute that.

Immediately, the two of them were rushed from all sides. There was no hesitancy from any of the combatants, least of all Edward and Harry. They began to defend themselves with great fervor, but as soon as they were grounded enough, secure in their skills and their trust of one another, they took on the offensive.

Every punch, every kick, was expertly timed and accurate in its execution. They never seemed to over-extend themselves, though. They attacked when they needed to, but they blocked and ducked when that would be more efficient, as well. Neither Edward nor Harry was flamboyant in their assault, even though the footwork was flashy and the fighting impressive. This was, primarily, about survival – not for show. This could very easily be seen in the economy of their movements, which were so natural that they seemed to flow effortlessly.

Watching the fight from the outside, one would think that they were performing a dance, rather than heavy combat, switching partners now and then. While they were proficient in the combination of martial arts that they executed – with excellently executed kicking, punching, grappling, trapping, evading, flipping, rolling, throwing and tackling – it was fairly obvious that their success, when it came, was not mainly due to this. For the most part, all could see that Edward and Harry's triumph was due to their trust of one another.

They had been there for each other unfailingly, watching out for and helping each other, but also making it so that the other never had to lose focus on the fight at hand. Edward and Harry, both, seemed to know each other so well that they could predict each other's movements. They moved in time with each other, never once getting in each other's way. They were each skilled enough in their own right that they were never distracted; never having to look over their shoulders, keeping track of what the other was doing or not doing.

This came as a surprise to everyone watching the proceedings. For one, they had never seen combat quite like this before. The skill, the timing, the undeniable evidence of tremendous training – it was almost unbelievable. For another, while they had more or less expected such aptitude from Harry, to see Edward in such a light was astounding. This had been completely different to the time he had begun sparring with Harry. Edward had been more excitable then, but now was far more firmly in control. Where those sparring matches were more edgy and adrenaline-fueled, this fight had been more disciplined and goal-driven.

The fight had given credence to the comparison usually made between the telepath and a mountain lion on the hunt, while Harry seemed very like an avenging angel. Together, they had displayed a blazing grace and dangerous beauty as they fought. Their every movement had seemed instinctual, no thought required, nothing forced. All in all, watching Edward and Harry, together, appeared to have been a stunning sight to behold.

"Well, _damn_!" exclaimed Jessica once all the golems had faded away, dispelled as soon as the duo proved victorious.

"Bro!" boomed Emmett, jumping onto the field and making his way over to Edward and Harry. "Where the hell did that come from?"

Edward smirked at his sibling's enthusiasm. There was no denying how _good _he felt right at that moment, though. Letting go like that had felt truly freeing. It was as if, after so long of living some other, lesser life, he was finally real once again.

Looking over to his love, he saw a smirk plastered on his face as well. The telepath was not able to read his mind, true enough, but he knew Harry. He was certain that the glow exuding from his mate was pride – pride in him. The realization made him swell with happiness so profound he felt as though he'd be able to fly.

"The place where this all began," replied Edward, speaking the truth, but sobering the crowd as he did so. It was a blatant reminder to them all of why they were here, what they were trying to accomplish.

"Do we start now?" asked Jasper, naturally uncompromising in wishing to be as prepared as possible.

"Yes," was Harry's emphatic response. "We have no time to waste. For obvious reasons, we will be teaching anyone supernatural differently from anyone natural. The skills you bring to this fight are different; you will have to be able to utilize those to the fullest potential."

Everyone nodded their understanding, readying themselves for a tough, but necessary day of non-stop training.

"Right," Harry continued, walking amongst them. "Split into groups of two or three and, for the sake of solidarity, make sure that the groups are mixed – Vampires with shifters, shifters with humans, humans and Vampires, or all three. You will have to learn to better your own techniques, yes, but you will also need to be able to work together. We're going to tackle this all at once in the interest of time."

Without delay, the pairing began and, in less time than anyone would have thought possible, everyone was ready to begin.

"And without complaint, too," said Bella, a little surprised. "That's… impressive."

Jacob grinned at her affectionately. "We can do anything with a big or important enough incentive, Bells. You know that."

Bella smiled back. "Yeah, I know. It's just… nice to see."

"Awww," teased Emmett fondly. "We're one big, happy family now, Bella. Feel the love."

"Shut up, Emmett!" replied the teenager, a faint blush on her cheeks.

A few chuckles went through the group and Harry, Edward noted, allowed the release of tension for a bit. The telepath could understand this.

Soon, they might not have the time for even this much.

**A…A**

Harry, who had always felt safer at night, was beginning to love it even more. While he never really slept anymore, not since receiving his Inheritance, a certain respite came at this time due to others' need of slumber.

Tonight, however, was different. Energy crackled in the air and the atmosphere felt much warmer than it truly was.

Strong arms encircled Harry's waist, the hands taking full advantage of the fact that his torso was currently bare. Warm breath and soft lips ghosted across the skin of his neck, causing his breath to hitch.

"It occurs to me," whispered Edward against his ear, as he pulled Harry flush against his body, "that there is something else that in which I am out of practice."

"Is that right?" breathed out Harry, barely able to keep his voice steady. "Anything I can help you with?"

Edward's talented hands began moving – first up, brushing teasingly over his nipples, causing them to pull taut, before moving back down his sides, over his ribs, at a leisurely pace. They reached his waist once more, the Vampire's thumbs circling over his hipbones, then moved lower still, caressing his clothed thighs.

"You and only you," was Edward's husky response.

His tongue flicked out, licking a thin, burning stripe up the side of his neck, pausing at his pulse, suckling at it and making Harry moan in anticipation.

"Yes," Edward whispered, the need in his voice desperate already.

Fingers ghosted over Harry's crotch – not nearly enough pressure to satisfy, but just enough to ensure he felt it, yearned for it. He bit his lip, not yet willing to submit to his beautiful Chosen just yet, but could not stop the whimper that escaped him, his own need escalating.

His desire spiked, inexorably then. Edward rotated his hips slowly, making his delicious hardness known, pressing it into Harry's ass, demanding acknowledgement. Harry groaned, no longer even trying to stop his responses to the touch he'd craved for too long now. Unashamedly, he pushed his ass into Edward's groin, rubbing slowly, but applying more pressure with each stroke.

In the back of his mind, the miniscule part that could still think somewhat coherently (though it was getting smaller with each passing moment), Harry could not help but feel awe. It unequivocally amazed him, even though he's always known, how no amount of time could lessen, let alone erase, his addiction to his mate. Here he was, barely touched, and mind was no longer his own. His body was shaking uncontrollably; his throat was so tight he felt he could scarcely breathe; and he was hot – so unbelievably hot that he thought his heart, beating at double time, was even sweating.

Turning swiftly, but never breaking Edward's hold on him, Harry crashed his lips to his love's in a searing kiss. The kiss was rushed, sloppy, and their teeth clashed too often, but Harry could not care less. He needed this. Decades of unfulfilled craving was crashing down on him all at once, and he could hold back no longer – not when his drug of choice (the most potent kind of all) was right in front of him, tempting him, teasing him. He gave in; he submitted.

"Need you now," he panted out, unable to form whole sentences and not even caring to try. "Need you so bad, Ed-Edward."

The Vampire growled possessively, pulling him closer, holding him tighter, kissing him as though his life would end should he stop.

"Take me," Harry managed to get out, the only words that mattered really. His voice was raw with desire, yet he did not mind. In fact, he wanted Edward to hear it, to hear how much he still wanted him, hungered for him.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Harry was flat on his back on his bed, completely naked, with his legs spread wide open to receive his prize.

He stretched his arms behind him, taking hold of his headboard and allowed his beloved to control him, dominate him. With soft touches and sweet caresses, Edward used his hands, his lips and his tongue to positively worship Harry's body.

Soft grunts, groans, moans and the most breathtaking whimpers were the only sounds that filled the room. For that time, these were the only sounds that mattered, and Harry soaked it all up like it was to be his last – though he feverishly hoped that was not the case. Now that he had his love back, he would do everything in his power to make sure he never lost him again.

As his Chosen pushed gently into him, stretching him in the most delicious way, he felt truly whole again. Harry's very soul seemed set alight and his body responded to his Edward with almost violent fervor, meeting him thrust for thrust. At first, the set pace was torturously, wonderfully slow – as though Edward was rewiring himself to Harry, remembering, reliving. Steadily, their synchronized tempo increased and every stroke brought Harry closer and closer to the edge.

With a final shout of his Chosen's name, Harry reached his climax, a powerful release the likes of which he had never experienced before. It was like a maelstrom of sensation, of emotion, and he was at the very heart of it – him and Edward, both. He felt himself soaring, jumping from one ecstasy to the next, each greater than the last, until he thought it impossible to get any higher.

He felt untouchable.

Later that night, as he and Edward – his most cherished of all treasures – lay together in utter, impenetrable bliss, relishing each other's company, Harry felt that to lose this fight was no longer an option. They would win because they had to, because to have his time with his beloved Edward cut short again would be intolerable.

It was all or nothing. Harry chose all.

**/A\**

**Author's Note: **As ever, let me know what you all thought! Thank you :)


	11. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Hi all! I am so, so, _so_ sorry that this is late! The only reason (apart from real life) that I can give is that I got stuck :( I had some trouble writing and reworking this chapter so that it fit in as it should. But, _finally_, it is complete! Also, a side note: I was reading through the story as I've written it so far and I realized something – I named both Jessica's and Eric's dads Peter. I completely missed that :P And so, simply to avoid possible confusion, I have decided that Eric's dad will remain Peter, but Jessica's dad is now Edgar… Edgar Stanley has a ring to it, right? :) Anyhow… Thank you to all of you reading and enjoying this story! *Mwah*

**/A\**

_I can't stand to fly_

_I'm not that naive_

_I'm just out to find_

_The better part of me_

_I'm more than a bird_

_I'm more than a plane_

_I'm more than some pretty face beside a train_

_It's not easy to be me_

_I wish that I could cry_

_Fall upon my knees_

_Find a way to lie_

_About a home I'll never see_

_It may sound absurd_

_But don't be naive_

_Even heroes have the right to bleed_

_I may be disturbed_

_But won't you concede_

_Even heroes have the right to dream_

_And it's not easy to be me_

_Up, up and away_

_Away from me_

_Well it's all right_

_You can all sleep sound tonight_

»Five for Fighting – Superman«

**/A\**

Chapter Ten:

"Dumbledore has determined his course of action," said Harry gravely and without preamble. There was no longer time to be anything but direct now.

"How bad?" asked Edward, just as brusque.

Ever since the Vampire had begun training again, he carried himself differently. Well, differently to how his family had known him. To Harry, this was more a return to his old manner, after all the preparation he had received all those decades ago.

Edward had always been graceful, but he seemed more in control as of late, more aware of his own body. His every movement was more commanding now, so that he had to do little more than enter a room before all attention was drawn to him. He was also less brooding and more thoughtful as the days passed – instead of wallowing, as he had been known to do, he showed great fervor in actively involving himself where necessary. When a problem arose that had no simple solution, or apparently no solution at all, he focused his mind on considerations that were, or could be, more productive. He no longer seemed to waste his energy needlessly. He found he actually moved forward rather than in circles, getting nowhere.

For anyone looking in from the outside, the closest comparison that could be drawn was to Jasper. The way Edward now talked, the way he walked, even the way he stood still, was so very like his older sibling that no one could quite help the realization.

Looking at them now, Harry could see that Jasper was not so different from Edward – and the empath could see it as well. Along the way, the soldier had found something he could relate to in his brother, something solid. In that way, they had both been able to help one another, break through the shells that hid their true selves. The connection between the two Vampire siblings was so much stronger now; they were more comparable than ever before.

"He intends to set most of his Lycans on the town," Harry replied, not holding anything back.

"On the _humans_?" asked Rosalie, her shocked visage mirroring the expressions on the faces of all those gathered at the clearing in La Push.

Though the stunning female Vampire often found herself resenting human beings, even envying them at times, she had no real feelings towards them – she did not particularly care for them much. She made no excuses for this (it simply was what it was) and she had certainly never tried to hide it. Things were no different now; she still felt the same coldness towards them, but that hardly meant that she wished to see them massacred. On a more personal level, however, what had her so appalled was how detrimental this could be to her true world – the Supernatural world, and all its many species. The chances that they would all be discovered were very high, if such a thing were to occur.

Rosalie had come quite a long way in accepting who and what she was – a lot of that due to her meeting and interacting with the Veela, another race of supernatural beings, whom Harry had requested more help from.

In order to increase their odds where the attacks, known and unknown, were concerned, Harry and Hermione had decided that aid would be welcome and necessary; it would have been careless of them, Harry had said, to not attain help, especially if it was available to them. As such, he had invited a particular Seraph (which was the collective name of a highly trained guard of Veela), which he was especially close to, to come to Forks to get acquainted and to train with the rest of those involved.

The Seraph, already set apart due to the almost uniform characteristics (brilliant blond hair, bright colored eyes and unnatural beauty) had seemed rather cold and distant when they had first got to the town. As a general rule, Veela tended to be cautious, if not downright suspicious, of all strangers, but most especially those of different species. This being quite close to Rosalie's usual behavior, she had immediately clashed with the Veela – but to the right hand of the Commander (a Commander who they had yet to meet) most of all.

This right hand was a female Veela by the name of Fleur Delacour.

Like Rosalie, the Veela was both blond and strikingly beautiful. If anyone cared to admit such a thing to Rosalie, and no one did care to, they would state that the aesthetic appeal of Fleur was far more pronounced, however. She was tall, standing at five feet and nine inches and her build was curvaceous, rather than simply slim. Her hair was lustrous and hung to the middle of her back (plaited when they had met her), and much lighter than Rosalie's golden tresses, being closer to platinum. The structure and features of Fleur's face were sheer perfection – her eyes were a spectacular cerulean color, her cheekbones were high and regal, her nose was slim and straight and her lips the perfect Cupid's bow.

It was natural and to be expected, though, that a Veela's looks would be incomparable. Veela were known, first and foremost, for their ethereal beauty – it was a characteristic that set them apart from most. What few understood, however, was that this exquisiteness was one of the many weapons in their arsenal. Taken advantage of correctly and effectively, a Veela's beauty could render one incompetent, making them easier prey.

Her beauty, great though it was, did little to distract one from the strength and cunning that Fleur possessed. She was an immensely fierce individual – physically as well as where her personality was concerned. It was rather effortless to see how she had gained, and maintained, her station as the second-in-command of a Seraph.

It was also easy to see that she shared many traits with Rosalie, tenacity being the most potent. Because of this, the two of them had clashed almost at once. Indeed, Rosalie tended to clash with many; the difference, in this case, was that Fleur was not one to back down to anyone, and had fought back with as much, if not more, fervor.

Seeing this, Rosalie had found, after some time, much reason to respect Fleur. She did not confess to this readily, though. As they continued to train together, however, the Veela came to be someone that Rosalie actually looked up to. This was a brand new feeling for Rosalie, who had never (be it as a Vampire or a human) seen any reason to actually admire another individual. From that point on, the two had become really close, forming the first and strongest friendship (outside of the Cullen family) that Rosalie had ever had. The bond was so strong, in fact, that the beautiful Cullen had actually opened up to Fleur about practically everything regarding herself, and in this way the Veela had been able to lend her help to the relatively young Vampire.

All in all, it was a surprising, but absolutely wonderful thing to see for Rosalie's family, and especially for Emmett; he had always known that his mate had never truly healed, had never allowed herself to. Now that she had someone not willing to walk on eggshells around her, and someone loath to put up with her less than reasonable condescension, Rosalie had come a long way. This pleased her family immensely, but no more than it pleased her.

More than self-growth, though, Rosalie now felt, sincerely and deeply, that she had something solid to belong to, had a place in the world, regardless of which world it was. She had found her niche and with it came her inner peace. Harry, too, was more than glad. He would not see that taken away from her – not when she had just established herself.

"He would truly stoop so low?" asked Carlisle in regard to the earlier revelation, his dismay, disappointment and even anger shining through.

"It is not about the human beings," Harry replied, even though the question was mostly rhetorical. "This assault is strategic."

"How so?" asked Jasper.

"He intends to have the Lycan attack coincide with that of the newborn army's," Harry informed them all, his tone grim.

A more accurate time of Victoria's attack had come to light in the form of a Vision that Alice had. Not a week would pass before the assault would occur, and all participants of the cause, and especially of the fight, had been training with even great vehemence since. Even Bella, who was more determined than ever to not be a sheep, had stepped up her dedication. With this latest news, however, they all wondered if they truly were prepared enough.

"A double attack," Jasper said just as solemnly, understanding immediately. "We cannot be everywhere; no matter what we choose, we stand a greater risk of losing something."

"The duel assault is also meant to be a distraction, we believe," said Hermione gravely, "one large enough that another of his plans can be carried out."

"The problem is," Harry continued, his frustration almost tangible, "we do not know what that plan is! Apparently, this is something Dumbledore has only entrusted to two of his more stanch followers. The only way Demetri even got wind of there being another objective was through their need to boast."

"Would this have something to do with his intent to reopen the Core?" asked Jasper, needing to cover all bases.

"While I believe that we should not assume anything," Harry answered seriously, his tone gruff with apprehension, "I think it is safe to say yes, in all probability."

"I get it that time is running out," said Jessica then, her tone irritable for all the information coming at them, none of which was good for them. "And I get it that questioning this will hardly help us… but _why_? If he is striking at places all over the world, why is he paying such _particular_ attention to Forks? Why here?"

"I did wonder when this query would be voiced," Hermione said, a small smile, with no feeling, playing on her features.

"The successful reopening of the Core would take a highly focused, highly magical procedure," Harry stated, answering Jessica's very valid question. "That means that he cannot risk any uninvolved, unrelated magic interfering. Such a thing would likely have disastrous consequences, let alone cause the ritual to fail. The problem with that is that there is ambient magic all around us; the very atmosphere, the air we breathe, is laden with magical currents."

"As such," Hermione continued, being the master researcher who actually discovered Dumbledore's reasoning, "Dumbledore would require a void, which is one of those rare, unexplained phenomena. A void is a place where absolutely no ambient magic is present, not even the tiniest sliver. On earth, there are only three such places – two of which are impenetrable fortresses, especially to someone like Dumbledore. He has no access to those places, and he won't waste his energy attempting to get to them. The third place, however, was only discovered recently and, thus, has little to no shielding."

"And this place, this void, is in Forks," said Angela, stating rather questioning, for there could be no doubt about it now.

"But where in Forks?" asked Edgar Stanley, who had recently come out of his hunting 'retirement', so to speak, in order to join the fray.

"Beneath the Forks cemetery," Harry replied.

"Huh," said Jessica, a small frown on her face, "I'd say that that's so cliché, but how many of us would have actually guessed the cemetery? Is something still cliché if it's completely overlooked?"

Hermione smiled indulgently. "I'd say it's more a case of brilliance in simplicity."

"I didn't even know there was a place beneath the graveyard," said Eric then, almost managing to hide his foreboding, but for the wideness of his eyes.

"There is," Harry confirmed seriously. "It's quite a labyrinth, actually."

"Really?" asked Angela, intrigued. "Why is it there?"

"Crypts," answered Hermione simply. "The old families were fond of them and, as a result, there are a number beneath the cemetery. I may be mistaken, but I believe there's even a ritual chamber down there. It wouldn't be out of place, really, considering that people were rather fond of dabbling in magic, if one were to think far back enough."

"You know," said Jessica, a pensive look on her face, "for all the information we keep getting, it really is very _annoying_ that we still don't know _exactly_ what Dumbledore's after – especially with this double attack coming up."

Mike scoffed, dark humor in his gaze. "Yes, that was _very_ inconsiderate of him, Jess. He should have drawn us _detailed_ plans, emphasizing _exactly_ what his objectives are, and how he was going to achieve them."

"I know, right?" Jessica exclaimed, playing along. "Villains of today… so unthinking!"

"In any event," said Charlie, sighing at the thought of having to disrupt the good humor, "with the Seraph's help, we may be able to work out a solid game plan, ensure we're not entirely out of our depth."

"It could definitely work out," Jasper agreed, already contemplating the most effective way to tackle the simultaneous attacks.

For the next few hours, strategies, and the reworking of those strategies, were discussed. All involved had their say, and as such they guaranteed that they considered every angle and took nothing lightly. In the end, it was decided that Harry, Hermione, the Seraph and the Council of Forks fighters would take on the threat of the Lycans. The Council, being made up entirely of human beings, required their help the most.

The Cullen family and the Quileute wolf-pack would deal with the attack of Victoria and her newborn army, as they had planned to do from the beginning. With a better idea of how many made up the newborn army (around twenty, thanks to Alice's Vision), they did not feel as completely weighed down as they would have been, were they ignorant. Coupled with the fact that they were all supernatural beings, they could afford to confront Victoria on their own and with confidence, as well.

Bella, after much intense deliberation between them all, would remain with the Cullens and the pack. It was her that Victoria was after, in the end, and should she not be there then there was no doubt that the red-headed Vampire would escape yet again, attacking only when she thought she would fulfill her desire for revenge. They could not allow this to happen. They had the chance, now, to end at least this one threat once and for all. They could not waste it.

And so, with the atmosphere positively crackling with their verve, the kind only ever really brought on by the fight for one's life, everyone prepared themselves for battle. They were all, without exception, aware that this may well be the end – for some if not every one. One thing was certain, though: they would not go down alone.

One way or another, they would ensure they weakened Dumbledore, at the very least, before the fight left their bodies. Add to that the saving of countless lives, and that really was not such a bad way to go.

**A...A**

The musical sounds of the doorbell to the Cullen house rang out, causing Edward to close his eyes, take a deep breath and collect himself.

He had known this was coming; Harry had revealed who the Commander of the Seraph was, eventually, and had given them all enough time to adjust to the idea. To be honest, though, it was only him that needed the adjustment time. Edward simply did not know how to feel, really, about seeing the person currently at the door again – indeed, he did not think he would be seeing him again. The Vampire felt he could have done with a bit more time (or a lot more time), however, before….

"Edward?" asked Harry, clearly amused and not quite managing to hide it. The telepath wondered if he had even tried.

Not deigning to respond, Edward simply walked over, at a leisurely pace, to allow their visitor entrance. By his reluctance, it was clear that he would much rather ignore it.

"Malfoy," greeted Edward upon opening the door, his tone far from welcoming. Indeed, he had a pronounced grimace upon his face, as though he had ingested something particularly bitter.

Draco Malfoy, he noted, did not appear to be afflicted in any such way, looking, as always, like his perfectly put-together self. He stood at about the same height as Edward, but that, along with their toned yet sinewy builds, was where their similarities ended. Draco had platinum blond hair, which was cut short, but stylishly (of course); he had bright, piercing gray eyes, ever calculating, that shone with hidden depth; his favorably fair complexion, high cheekbones, perfect nose and not-too-thin, not-too-plump pink lips completed his regal mien. And yet, this was all woefully lost on Edward, overshadowed by the simple fact that, however he looked, this was Draco Malfoy.

"Cullen," responded Draco, the expected Malfoy smirk lighting his features. "It is _so_ _very_ good to see you again!"

"I'm sure," Edward returned drily, his countenance barely shifting. "Though I had hoped it would not have been quite so soon."

"I'm hurt!" Draco cried out in mock-anguish, clutching his shirt over his heart. "I know we were never friends exactly, Cullen, but I'm sure you can dredge up some form of hospitability."

"For you?" asked Edward, feigning thought. "Hardly."

"No matter," replied Draco, his smirk back and more prominent. "I'm sure _Harry_ will be happy to see me."

Edward restrained himself from growling outright, but only just. He did scowl quite impressively, though. Draco was unfazed. He chuckled gleefully, ever pleased at having annoyed Edward.

Warm arms suddenly encircled the Vampire's waist, followed by a lithe body pressing against him.

"Still letting him affect you so, my love?" Harry's voice whispered into his ear, his breath ghosting against Edward's cheek. The telepath savored the feeling for a moment before answering.

"He has a gift," he said softly, the bite no longer present due to Harry's heady influence on him.

His mate chuckled breathily, gently moving Edward aside so as to allow Draco entrance.

"Draco," Harry greeted affectionately, turning to the youthful blond as he entered.

"Harry," said Draco, a pretty pout taking over his features, as he addressed the green-eyed man, "no hug for me?"

Before Harry could respond, Edward snarled warningly; this time he could not, and would not, restrain it.

"Cullen!" Draco said in mock-surprise, as if truly noticing him for the first time. "When did you become a Vampire?"

Edward rolled his eyes. Draco never did hide the fact that he believed the telepath to be far too weak, in his will and in his ways, to be considered a true Vampire. He had, in fact, told Edward this many times to his face.

"You are not amusing," Edward stated, his tone unimpressed.

"Well, I should think not!" said Draco, sounding as though this should be obvious. "Charming, suave, sophisticated, _ridiculously_ good-looking: absolutely! Never amusing, however."

"I did not think it was possible, Malfoy," Edward responded lightly, "but your ego is even more inflated than it used to be."

Draco shrugged elegantly and smiled. "The only way is up."

A giggle interrupted their banter just then, as though the person could no longer hold it in.

Turning swiftly, Draco faced the Cullen's immaculate living room and all its current occupants – that being the rest of the Cullen family.

"Pardon me!" said Draco, not self-conscious in the least, but more in his element than ever, seeing as how the spotlight was all his. "I must apologize for Cullen – Edward, I mean. He never did have any manners worth boasting about."

"Draco!" Harry admonished fondly, even as Rosalie scoffed lightly in amusement.

"I speak only the truth, Harry," replied Draco, unrepentant. "Now, am I to be introduced? Or shall I just take care of that myself – uncouth as that would be?"

This time it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes as Edward, grudgingly, stepped forward to make the introductions. Once he had presented each member of his family, he turned and gestured towards Draco.

"Everyone," he said, keeping his voice even and unceremonious, "this is Draco Malfoy."

"Pleasure to meet you all," added Draco, a disarming smile upon his face.

"Wow," said Alice, her eyes sparkling. "Harry wasn't exaggerating. It's like meeting Adonis in the flesh."

"Or Narcissus," muttered Edward, rolling his eyes once more.

Draco laughed lightly at the references, plainly having heard both before and, just as plainly, not tiring of either. He deftly chose to ignore Edward, though.

"Why, thank you," he said, bowing slightly in acceptance of the compliment and, knowing Draco, in agreement as well. "I would greet you personally first, Alice, but as courtesy dictates…."

At this, he moved over to Jasper first, his hand outstretched. Jasper raised an eyebrow, impressed even through his natural suspicion of all persons unfamiliar to him. He grasped Draco's hand in a firm shake, however, nodding his appreciation and approval at being acknowledged before Alice.

As Draco had alluded, courtesy, especially amongst the supernatural kind, dictates that, if a being is mated, a person should always greet the dominant of the bond first. This was to acknowledge that one was aware of the existing bond, and so as to not offend either of the mates. It was also to avoid situations of jealousy and rage, where one would come across as attempting to court the dominant's mate. And so, by greeting the dominant first, one says that he or she is aware of, and respects, the bond present and wishes no discord. This usually holds especially true where the submissive happened to be female, though not exclusively. Not many beings, be they supernatural or otherwise, followed such ways any more, though. It was refreshing to see that, at least, one did.

Once he had greeted Jasper, only then did Draco turn to Alice, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it.

"Charmed," he said, letting go and then repeating the custom with the rest of the family.

"I had never thought I'd see the old ways again," said Carlisle, a pleased smile upon his face.

"Ah, they may be considered 'old' to the many," Draco said, taking the seat that the doctor gestured to, "but tradition has always been of great importance to Veela."

Sitting in his company, watching how he interacted with the family, how he spoke and reacted – just his whole demeanor in general – Edward had to admit, however grudgingly, that Draco was not the same boy he had met those many years ago. He was changed, and seemingly entirely for the better. He carried himself with a poise so very rare amongst the youth, yet there was undeniable strength in him – physically, but also in mind and in spirit. He was vastly more mature now, and also much more controlled than he had ever tried to come across in that past time.

All in all, the Vampire admitted to himself, there really was no reason for him and Draco to continue their past rivalry. No, no reason – it was merely the principle of the thing.

"I have to say, Draco," Emmett began, a foreboding twinkle in his eyes that Edward inwardly groaned at, "it was thoroughly _hilarious_ watching my dear brother hear get chewed out by your Fleur."

Draco let out a soft laugh, as though unable to help himself.

"And why, pray tell," he asked, his amusement at Edward's expense obvious, "did my dearest feel the need to do so?"

"It was before I'd discovered she was your Chosen," answered Edward, taking over before Emmett could spin the tale completely out of proportion, "and I could not help voicing certain… unsavory remarks about you."

"You insulted me in the presence of my _mate_!" exclaimed Draco, his smirk widening, his mirth shining brilliantly in his eyes. "Did you not gain any clue as to the type of woman she is? I'm surprised to see no scars, Cullen."

"Oh, believe me, her words definitely cut," Edward assured wryly. "She has an even sharper tongue than you do."

"Yes, I know," agreed Draco proudly, his love and adoration plain to see, but only if one knew him well enough. "I wish I could have been there. I'm sorry I missed it."

Yet again, Edward found himself rolling his eyes. Draco really did have a knack for making him feel off-balance, and it thoroughly annoyed him – among other things, many and varied. The undercurrent to their bickering now, however, was far more playful. It seemed that, without consciously agreeing to it, he and Draco had allowed some sort of truce to form between them; it was both unsettling and rather a relief being able to let go of the animosity. He supposed that was, at least in part, due to the current circumstances they found themselves in.

"You said you had news, Draco," said Harry then, interrupting the lull in conversation. Edward could see that he did not want to, but knew that he had to get to the issues at hand. "When I first called to request that you and the Seraph join us here in Forks."

"I do," agreed Draco, his demeanor changing to something much graver than previous, "and not of the good variety."

Harry smiled humorlessly. "When is it ever of late?"

Draco hummed. "Nicholas Flamel has been taken," he then said without preamble, sharing a significant look with Harry and Hermione.

"The second key," said Hermione, unable to keep the anxiousness from her voice completely.

"One more and the set will be complete," Harry said, the severity of his tone unnerving the Cullens.

"The second key?" asked Edward then, for even he was not aware, in this instance, what was being spoken about.

"In order to reopen the Core," supplied Hermione, happy to fall into her scholarly role, "Dumbledore needs to assemble three keys. Anything less and the task would be impossible. Now that he has two of the three keys, however, it is becoming all the more probable that he can succeed."

"And what are these keys, exactly?" asked Jasper, not willing to submit to anxiety just yet.

"The new, the old and the dead," answered Draco, straightforward as ever.

"The three keys would, basically, symbolize the circle of life," clarified Harry, understanding that everyone would need better appreciation. "That is, a representation of the cycle: birth, growth or aging, and death. The new could be anything from any newborn to a member of the most recent supernatural species to come into existence. This could mean using a newly turned, New Generation Vampire – since it was not so long ago, relatively speaking, that the evolution took place. This, though, might not work, considering that New Generation Vampires are linked to an ancient race. The old could be any ancient being, or a being from an ancient species. The dead is simplest, though, so to speak – Dumbledore would have to create an Inferius."

"A what now?" asked Emmett.

"You would know it as a zombie, I suppose," replied Harry.

"An animated corpse?" Emmett asked incredulously. It was as if the movies were coming to life before him.

"Well, yes," said Harry slowly, "but only at the most basic level. Depending on the power of the Necromancer, and the value of the sacrifice, an Inferius can be much more than that, however."

"And we already know that Dumbledore has a very powerful Necromancer in his control," said Jasper seriously, "considering that he was able to revive an extinct species."

"So, how exactly does what he has done correspond with the keys?" asked Carlisle.

"Dumbledore never does anything in half measures," Harry explained, pulling all of his knowledge on his former mentor to the front of his mind. "It seems that he wants as much power as he can get behind each key, thus making the chances of success greater. That is why he is content to take his time, and why he is going to such extremes.

"His revival of the Lycans represents the new. They have been extinct long enough that they can, now, be considered the newest species in existence – not even a year old, in fact. Because of this, the Lycans make an extremely potent first key. Therefore, in keeping in line with his intentions, the second key would need to be just strong. And so, for the old, Dumbledore has taken Nicholas Flamel."

Harry breathed this last out, as though still reeling from the thought of it. Clearly, there was more to this, Edward surmised, than a missing person – old or not.

"The alchemist?" asked Carlisle, a frown marring his features.

"He is an alchemist, yes," responded Harry, still a bit dazed, but quickly regaining himself, "but he is also so much more than that."

"At the risk of sounding obtuse," said Alice, as if she was seeking confirmation, but fearing what she'd be told, "I take it this means that Nicholas Flamel is older than Dumbledore."

Draco scoffed at this, but Hermione, sending a pointed glare his way, answered before he could respond in the acidic way that he had, no doubt, perfected.

"Much older," she said, the undiluted awe evident in her tone. "Lord Flamel is one of the most ancient beings in existence – he is the _Father of vampirism_."

A most profound silence followed this statement, as though the world had stopped turning, so grand was the revelation. Edward, for his part, did not know how to react. He had never really thought much about the species he belonged to, never wondered where and when and how they had come in being. Indeed, he had initially been so against what he was that he had, actively, stopped himself from following that line of questioning. All he knew was that he was what he was, and there was no changing that. But to be presented, now, with the definite beginning of his race – it was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Father?" asked Rosalie, incredulous. "How?"

"The very first Vampire, of all time, was born," answered Draco, sounding as though such a thing should be common knowledge.

"Born?" whispered Carlisle, unable to reconcile such a thing with their reality.

Every other member of the family was having similar trouble comprehending, Edward noted, including himself.

"Yes," said Hermione, matter of fact. "You see, Lord Flamel, like all serious alchemists, was most interested in the ultimate work, as they saw it – the Elixir of Life. The difference between him and others, however, is that he not only discovered the secret to the immortality, he _created_ it: the Philosopher's Stone. In ingesting the Elixir, though, in becoming immortal, Lord Flamel was irrevocably altered."

"It is like I said to Bella in the clearing," said Harry, explaining further. "Gaining a lot means losing a lot. In this case, the sacrifice was only discovered when Lord and Lady Flamel eventually decided to have a child. Lady Flamel did fall pregnant, but it would have been immediately evident that their child was… different. Afterward, Lord Flamel would discover that he was not able to father any more children. His son, however, would discover that he could father none, not in the conventional sense, at least. And that was the beginning of a new species in our world."

"Whoa," breathed Emmett, his eyes wide with wonder. "I didn't think there could be anything older than ancient."

"Which means that Dumbledore is, indeed, in possession of another extremely powerful key," said Jasper, understanding the implications almost at once.

"So, does that mean that he could attain the last key at any time he wants?" asked Edward, unwilling to believe that there were no more options left to them, that they were too late.

"No," said Harry, a small, reassuring smile on his face, "thankfully not."

"Dumbledore would want to have a very potent third key," Draco drawled, a tone that Edward still found grated on his nerves. "Remember?"

Hermione sighed, exasperated.

"Must you be so… galling, Draco?" she asked pointedly.

"I am lovely company, Granger," he said haughtily, smiling widely in her direction. "It merely takes a special kind of person to appreciate that. I understand that not everyone can, though."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but refused to respond, instead turning to the rest so that she could clarify.

"In order for Dumbledore to attain the power he needs behind the last key," she said, getting back on point with great ease, "he would need to resurrect the old dead. That means that he would be raising someone who has been dead for a very long time."

"Is that even possible?" asked Carlisle, confused. "Would there even be a body?"

"It would not matter," said Harry simply. "Even if there is nothing but dust left, the dead return to the earth. That means that their memory is retained, imprinted in the very soil. With a great enough sacrifice, the Necromancer would manage it."

"You've mentioned the sacrifice before," said Jasper then. "What does that mean?"

"Blood sacrifice," said Harry, managing to keep his tone even. "More accurately, however, it would mean life sacrifice."

"And the greatest sacrifice of that kind," said Draco, in case there was any doubt, "the kind of sacrifice that Dumbledore would need, is human sacrifice."

Esme and Alice, both, gasped loudly, appalled.

"He won't just use any human, though," said Hermione, understanding the reaction, but knowing that nothing would come of entertaining it. "He'll want a powerful human, someone who will be able to lend that power to the ceremony, atop the Necromancer's."

"A powerful witch or a wizard," said Edward, comprehension dawning.

"In all likelihood," Harry agreed.

"Do you have any idea who?" asked Carlisle, disturbed in a way he did not think he could get, after all he had borne witness to in his life – before and after his turning.

"None," Harry replied, plainly very upset by this fact. "Dumbledore has not made such knowledge widely known, and it would be nearly impossible to guess."

A pregnant pause punctuated the room then, everyone taking in the implications such ignorance, on their part, could probably have. The situation seemed to become more dire by the day – Edward was uncertain as to how much tension they could stand, but they would simply have to regardless.

Giving up was no longer an option that any of them could entertain.

**A...A**

"I do not like this in the least, Harry," Edward stated, his anxiety and wariness clearly evident.

"No more than I, my love," sighed Harry, just as worried as the Vampire, as his expressive eyes showed fully.

He and his Chosen were currently at Harry's house. This was their custom now. At the end of each day, Edward and his love would retire to Harry's residence, getting their much needed time alone. For this allowance, they were eternally grateful. The war drew ever closer and they now needed each other's love more than ever before.

This night was different, though. There was a palpable tension in the air, a keen sense of unease that was so stifling it had to be addressed.

"I do not think that I will be able to do this," said Edward for what was probably the fifth time that night.

"And yet you must," Harry responded simply, if rather sadly. "We must."

"Must we?" asked the Vampire, turning to face Harry fully, beseeching his mate now. "Must we, really? Is there no way –?"

"Not this time, Edward," his Chosen replied gently, cupping his face in his hands. He pressed a light, chaste kiss to Edward's lips before continuing. "We have to be where we are needed most, where we can lend the most help."

"It is tearing me apart, love," Edward said, his tone pleading, willing Harry to give in, "the thought of not being with you for this fight – for _any_ fight! I need to stand with you!"

"And you will, Edward," Harry assured as best he could, even while he looked as though he wished he were giving in just as much as Edward wanted him to. "We will stand together, fight together, when it counts. I swear to you, love, nothing will tear us apart come the final battle. But for this particular fight, we have to lend our aid where it is required. I cannot allow the Council of Forks, or this town, to suffer; I have to stand by them. They are, however indirectly, in this because of me. I have sought their help, and they have acquiesced without even a hint of hesitation. And, above all, they trust me, love. They have placed their faith in me. I must give this the recognition and relevance it deserves.

"And you, Edward," he continued, his voice firmer now, more confident in their decision, "you have a duty to your family – one you cannot shirk. You have, as a unit, accepted the responsibility of this attack by Victoria; you must, therefore, face it as a unit, solid and unwavering. You cannot be anywhere else but with your family at this time, in this fight. I understand that, my beloved; I hold nothing against you."

"I know," replied Edward, clearly torn, clearly distressed. "I know, Harry. I just wish it did not have to be so. I wish I did not have to be apart from you!"

Harry moved forward then, as though unable to help himself, and wrapped his arms around the Vampire. Burying his head into the crook of Edward's neck and shoulder, the young being did not say anything for a while, wanting only to take comfort for a moment.

"I wish the same, Edward," Harry whispered, though not moving. "I wish the same."

Moving back only enough to allow him to see Edward's face, his gaze was steady, so very full of love and heart-stopping in its beauty.

"For tonight, though," he whispered, his voice husky with want and causing an inescapable shiver to travel through Edward, "you are with me and _nothing_ will tear me away."

Growling, Edward captured Harry's lips with a fervor that was undeniable. Unable to stop himself, the Vampire positively devoured his stunning Chosen, leaving absolutely no doubt about his feelings, his devotion, his love.

Running his tongue along Harry's bottom lip, Edward spared no hesitation when his mate allowed him entry, plundering the warm, wet, _heavenly_ mouth. He delighted in the greedy groan he heard when their tongues met in a familiar, yet still riveting dance. Parting from Harry's sinfully sweet lips, only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down his jaw and neck, the Vampire confessed himself blissfully lost.

He was far from happy, of course, that he would not be fighting alongside his most cherished one during the upcoming assaults, but on this night nothing in the world would stop Edward from showing Harry exactly what he meant to him. And as he took his raven-haired love, in every way he wanted, he felt certain that Harry was showing him just the same.

**A...A**

"All right, listen up!" said Harry, his tone more commanding, his demeanor more formidable, than they had ever known it to be. This was understandable, however.

The time had come for them to fight – to fight for their beliefs, their lives and the lives of countless others. A nervous, yet excited sort of tension filled all those gathered around the young being, be they combatants or not. The energy in the air crackled. The undeniable knowledge that all their debates, all their strategizing would now be put to the test filled them with apprehension, to be sure, but it also gave them all a definite purpose. It was now down to fight or die, kill or be killed – and no one wished to believe that failure was even an option.

The Cullen family and the wolf-pack had already made their way to the clearing where their battle was to take place. They were well prepared and quite strong, especially since the hostility between the two factions had lessened considerably. That did not stop Harry, however, from feeling so very torn having to watch Edward head out. He understood that this was the way things had to be, but he could not help feeling the intense need to rush after his Chosen, to aid him in his fight, or even to ask Edward to, selfishly, remain with him through his confrontation. He knew, without doubt, that his love would have stayed, would have forsaken all else for him. He could not do that, though. For his and his Edward's sake, he could not bring himself to be so self-serving.

Shaking his head, Harry forcibly brought himself back to the present. Thinking about his mate now would not be productive; in fact, it would cause him to lose his concentration, his drive, and in turn cause a lot more damage than good. His help was needed here. He had a town to protect and he needed to focus.

The rest of those involved in this war were surrounding him right then. They were all congregated in his back yard – a yard that no one could have imagined would be so very spacious. If not for the gift of magic, they all knew that such vast area could not be possible, not given the location of Harry's house and the immense woods. Surveying them now helped to direct the young beings mind. They were all here for a purpose and they were looking to him for leadership, and with such trust. He could not let them down.

"The rings that you normally use against Vampires," Harry continued, his voice as strong as ever, "have been modified slightly. They will now diminish the strength and speed of the Lycans. They _will not_ nullify them entirely – you will still be greatly hurt should you take many hits! You must remain _constantly vigilant_! Get the rings on them as soon as possible to ensure that they, at the very least, cannot kill you with a single blow – do not stall, do _not_ hesitate!

"Also, _very important_, these rings do nothing to stop the effects of the Lycans venom. If you are bitten, you _will_ transform. _Do not get bitten!_ Now, to save you some shock, it is likely that not all of Dumbledore's Lycans are fully transformed. If, at any point, the light of the full moon is lost, and some Lycans change back into their human selves, _do not hesitate_. I understand that this may seem heartless to you, but you will be doing those humans no favors should you let them live. You will only be _allowing_ them to become monsters. That is inevitable."

"Right," said Hermione, stepping up then. On this night, she had on a form-fitting all-black combat suite and, needless to say, she looked rather different to the bookish Vampire that everyone had got used to. It took nothing away from her, though, as Harry knew well, only lending to her undeniable strength and intimidation. "Lord and Lady Weber and Lord Newton will remain at Harry's residence. It has been opened up to be the fortress it was always meant to be, and from there they will be able to keep watch over the battle. They will be completing their rituals and aiding us with their magic _where they can_. We _must not_ rely on them solely! They will do all they can, but we cannot and will not ask for more than they can give!

"Angela will also be calling upon her magic, but she will also be fighting. She, too, will help where she can, but do not overtax her. Believe in yourselves – in your strength, in your will, in your unity. We have been training and preparing for this for some time now. Have faith and _never_ stop fighting back – we can do this. We _can_ beat this!"

"All non-combatants," Harry said, taking over once more, "will be situated at various points along the perimeter of the town proper, under cover of the woods. We have successfully managed to modify the weaponry. You have in your arsenal guns, enough extra bullets, all pure silver, to last the battle and more, as well as knives, also silver; these have all been charmed and will be accomplished in breaching the supernatural physicality of the Lycans. You have all had enough weapons training to properly defend yourselves, should the enemy make it that far past our offence.

"In so far as we can, though, we must not allow the Lycans to reach the town. Should they gain access to the unwitting residents, it will be far, far more difficult to dispose of them – not to mention that they will only be increasing their numbers should this happen. The protection of the secret that is the Supernatural world may not be the supreme objective, not where innocents are at stake, but it is still greatly significant. For as long as you can, please – _please_ – do not allow our world to come to light. That may well have an even more detrimental effect than the Lycan attack itself."

Everyone nodded gravely, giving both their understanding and agreement. It had finally, deeply sunk in, Harry noted as he looked around at all those gathered. The realization of what they were facing, of the greatness of the threat coming at them, could no longer be glossed over or put aside. The time was upon them.

As he watched, every parent, sibling and friend present took the time to hold each other, to shake hands, to wish each other luck and assure one another of their love. The Seraph, of course, all twenty of them, did not behave in such a manner. For one thing, it was not their way – they preferred remaining cold on the outside, untouchable, while lending silent strength to one another, just as powerful as any hug. For another thing, this was not there first battle, big or otherwise; they were well aware of the effects of any fight, as well as the counter to those effects.

Regardless of how they showed affection, however, Harry found it more difficult, now than ever, to not think of Edward. As such, for that short moment, he did not avoid it. He allowed his mind to call up the image of his beloved, as well as thoughts and memories of their time together. He did not have the words to describe the devotion and happiness that enveloped him, that made him everything that he was. In fact, Harry decided, words would not do such intense feeling justice in this case. He sent out a silent plea for Edward's strength and safety, filling it with deepest love. His mate would be perfectly fine, he assured himself. He could endure no contradictory thoughts to that.

Turning his mind back to those before him, Harry noticed that, for all their expressions of affection, not one individual among them said 'goodbye'. He gave a small smile at that. There was hope in them and, so long as they had that, they were refusing to give up, admit defeat. It made him proud.

He did not have long to think on that, though, as he froze in the very next instant. Hermione was immediately alert next to him, as were all the Veela, while they remained where they were. Draco did set his intense gaze upon him, however, awaiting the confirmation he knew he would receive.

"They are close enough to feel now," Harry said, his tone hard and unwavering as he addressed them all, in the hopes that he could keep them focused, if not entirely calm. He closed his eyes then, reaching outward with his consciousness, his innate ability to sense auras and magic in a way that made him very much a one with it. "There are… many."

"How many, Harry?" asked Hermione, her voice precise as always in situations that demanded such hands-on drive. "Can you tell?"

"Not with absolute accuracy, no," said Harry, eyes still closed in concentration. "I'd put the number at around forty, though, perhaps a little more, but no less."

When he again opened his eyes, the emerald fire in them blazed with such life that one could almost feel the heat. "They are moving toward us, close enough that we can go out to meet them. Remember, we must do all that we can to disallow them from getting any nearer than that."

Once everyone had acknowledged his words, and the true start of the battle, Harry continued.

"All right, everyone, scatter. As decided, all those not fighting should remain at their posts, unless the confrontation ends up being a lot closer to home than we intend. As for the combatants, we move out now to cut the Lycans off. Keep them at bay, dispose of them entirely if you can, and remember that this is the time for efficiency, not exhibition."

Looking around at them all one more time, Harry nodded firmly. "Let's go."

**A…A**

It was an opportune thing indeed, Harry thought to himself, that he had requested the Seraph's help; they would not have been able to hold their own without it.

They had managed to intercept the Lycans approach, but that did not stop the beasts in their intent to advance to the town. The wolf-like monsters had not hesitated, as Harry knew they would not, and attacked with the kind of single-minded, bloody intent that only the unthinking and unfeeling could. He noted, however, that they did not come at them all at once. Someone had to have been letting smaller groups go in stages. First ten Lycans had assaulted, then the next fifteen and, while Harry's band of combatants was still holding of that second batch, the third group had joined the fight. This latest horde had yet another fifteen beasts. That made up the forty the young being had surmised, but he was immensely glad to note that his guess was accurate.

Allowing his mind to consider his enemy, even as yet another three Lycans attacked him alone, Harry knew what the objective in this strategy was. Their foe was attempting to tire them out, wear them down enough to more easily break through the defenses, as well as more effectively lessen their numbers. Looking around, Harry was fervently glad to note that no one had yet been lost, from their side, but he was wary at observing their exhaustion kicking in.

He had, of course, known that this would happen. While human beings were amazingly strong in mind, spirit and emotion, when it came to their physicality, they had inevitable limitations. Harry did attempt to counter this as best as he could. He noted that Hermione and the Seraph did the same. They picked up any slack they could, as best they could, taking on more Lycans than was prudent. This served them all well, though. With the Veela ability of flight (as they were gifted with wings they could extend at will), as well as their and Hermione and Harry's supernatural abilities, coupled with Harry's advanced magic, the fight tended to be more evenly balanced than not. A few times Harry even believed they had taken the upper hand.

That was when things took a turn, and decidedly for the worse.

One Lycan, not quite as large as the rest, but far more temperamental, found a gap in their ranks and broke through. Studying it carefully, Harry deduced that this was probably one of those Lycans not yet fully transformed from the human he or she once was. That was not important just then, however, as other beasts noticed the lone Lycan's breach and followed his example.

Turning back to his own fight, Harry finished off the beasts he was dealing with as quickly as he could. They had managed to close the hole in their defenses not long after, but at least five Lycans had managed to slip out and towards the town. He noted that Jessica, Angela, Hermione and a few of the Seraph had left to give chase. Wanting to do the same, but also needing to finish what they'd started, the other combatants, with a more feverish determination now, continued the current battle, ensuring that no more than those five wolf-monsters could escape. It was not easy, by any stretch, but before long (though not seeming soon enough) they had managed to dispose of the rest of the Lycans they were wrestling.

Turning towards the town, the rest of his fighters not far behind him, Harry rushed back. They could not allow those few Lycans to reach the innocents.

Catching up easily with the rest, Harry took stock of what was happening around him. It seemed that three of the five escaped beasts were already destroyed – Hermione and the few Veela making quick work of them. Looking ahead, Harry spotted the only two remaining Lycans, just as they entered the denser part of the surrounding woods, closely followed by Jessica and Angela.

Apparently, these two creatures still had the rings on them, the circlets containing the magical qualities that would diminish the Lycans speed and strength. Along with that, the beasts were heading towards an area where the others were stationed – the non-fighters in possession of the magically enhanced weaponry. Harry found he was simultaneously concerned and hopeful by this. On the one hand, these were members of their team that had no combative skills to speak of – making them easier targets (Harry refused to think victims). On the other hand, though, they might be able to weaken the Lycans with the silver bullets in their guns – if they held on to their accuracy training, and Harry so hoped that they did.

Shots rang out as a few of them fired. Harry arrived just in time to see one beast take a hit, the other, dodging in between the tree trunks, managing to avoid this. The injured Lycan, having hesitated due to its wound, slowed enough that someone was able to get another two shots into it.

Roaring from the pain, as well as rage, the beast swung around, searching for its enemy. Harry rushed at it, wanting to get its attention focused on him and succeeding. Crazed with hurt, the Lycan charged straight for the young being. As it was already weakened, however, Harry had a simple time of destroying it. Pulling his magic from his core to the tips of his fingers, Harry concentrated on the body of the downed beast. Within seconds, its entire body was engulfed in flames, the fire making fast work of turning it to no more than ash. Waving his hand, not a minute later, Harry made not only the fire, but all evidence of it and the Lycan, disappear. That done, he could not help but to notice something odd.

Silence. No one was firing anymore, no one was fighting. Everything seemed eerily frozen. And then it shattered.

A blood-curdling roar shook the very earth. This was not the usual fury-filled cry of any Lycan, though. This roar was so crushingly tormented and pain-laced, as though the creature was being heinously tortured, that Harry felt his own heart clench with the anguish. Hurrying to where it had issued from, which was not too far from his previous position, the raven-haired being stopped short at the sight that met him. His breath left in one great gust, as if he had just been punched, powerfully, in his gut.

Every member of his team stood surrounding the sight, in a messy, crudely formed circle. Every face had upon it varying degrees of horror and disbelief, all eyes wide and mouths gaping. No one was moving, though, like they had all been petrified still. At the center of this ring of observers, Jessica stood. Her hands hung limply at her sides, the right one holding a gun in a loose grip. It seemed she had forgotten she even held it. Her too-bright eyes were locked, morbidly, on the sight before and she looked absolutely aghast. Across from her, not four feet away, a writhing shape could be seen. It was the last remaining Lycan, or it had been an instant before. With one last, agonized cry, in its place stood the naked form of a human teenage boy.

"Tyler…" breathed Jessica, her tone so soft even to Harry's sensitive senses. That did nothing to mask the horror and deeply seated pain she clearly felt, however.

Harry found that he still felt shocked when seeing one so very young forcibly inserted into the Supernatural world, no matter how many time he had witnessed such a thing before. And to become Lycan, such a monstrous creature… he had to close his eyes for a moment at the wave of despair that stole over him then. When he opened them once again, it was to the same sight, as though someone had put the scene on pause. In fact, if not for the wind rustling the leaves and branches above their heads, and pulling at their clothes with icy fingers, they may well have all been statues part of a perverse exhibition.

In frightful clarity, every one of them could see the grim state that the boy, Tyler, was in – testament to the harsh and unforgiving experiences he had been put through.

Deep scratches littered the once-handsome teenager's body, most old, though some fairly recent. It was with acute nausea that most noted that these injuries had been inflicted by Tyler himself, as if he had attempted, on many occasions, to claw his way out of his own body. They were not the only marks, though. Quite a few whip lashes could be counted as well, these bringing out not only hurt for Tyler's sake, but fury at what had been done to him also.

As the boy swayed on the spot, not really looking at anything, the most obvious contradiction in him was astounding, and not in any welcome way. While it was easy to tell how brutally strong he was physically, due to the transformation he had had to suffer, it was just as effortless to see how fragile he was on the inside. His mind and spirit had been broken – shattered into a million little pieces. Irreparable.

In a sudden movement, which caused a number of gasps to be issued from the watching crowd, Tyler lifted his head and stared straight at Jessica. He seemed to keep her rooted to the ground with his hazel eyes alone. Unlike previously, where he seemed to stare without seeing, it was now apparent that his gaze was clear. For the moment, it seemed that Tyler had come back to himself, and knew who he was and who he was looking at.

"Jess," he croaked out, his voice raw from his screams, doubtless, as he confirmed Harry's thoughts.

Jessica choked. The full realization that her friend was standing before her, and of what had happened to him since he went missing, seemed to finally sink in, like a sharp knife through her heart. She blinked then and the first of her tears fell. She did not seem to notice.

Tyler's eyes flicked down to the gun in Jessica's hand and then back up to her face. A hard resolve had settled in his eyes, though this was difficult to see beneath his feelings of helplessness and defeat.

"S-save me," he said, his voice still rough, his request broken. "Save me, Jess."

Harry knew well that Tyler had no previous knowledge of the role Jessica played within the Council of Forks – or even that there was a Council. It was plain to see, however, that what he saw before him now was an opening, a means of escaping his unimaginable, but very real circumstances.

"H-how…?" Jessica managed to ask with effort, the words seeming to almost stick in her throat. "I don't… w-what can I do?"

"Shoot me," was Tyler's simple response. His tone was soft, but he appeared to have strengthened his determination now, so that his request was far steadier. His eyes gleamed with an almost wild look. They positively shined as the thought of an end sunk into his mind, and he grabbed hold of it in a way that suggested he would not be letting go.

"What?" asked Jessica incredulously, her voice trembling, her eyes widening.

"You m-must, Jess!" Tyler exclaimed, almost shouting now in his panic that his friend might not grant his wish. "Y-you know you must! L-look at me – _look_! I'm a m-monster now, Jessica!"

"No!" yelled the teenaged girl right back, shaking her head vigorously, unwilling to believe what she was hearing even though she knew the truth of it. "You're not a monster – you're… Tyler. You're Tyler!"

No tears escaped Tyler's eyes as he kept looking at his friend, but it was still obvious that he was crying; his soul was weeping and the flow did not seem as though it would stem, not ever, until it was freed.

"I'm n-not," the broken boy said, his voice softening then, but no less pained. "I'm not Tyler anymore. Y-you saw, Jess! You know! I am a monster."

When Jessica did not respond, only kept shaking her head in denial, Tyler got agitated once again.

"I've k-killed p-people, Jessica!" he cried out, his vulnerability shining blindingly, now more than ever, as he used the one argument he knew would break through Jessica's defenses. "I'm a – I'm a k-killer. I'm a killer. P-please!"

Tyler seemed to fracture even more before their very eyes as he begged for liberation. Tears streamed down Jessica's face as she stared into his too-large pleading eyes.

"P-please," he stammered out again, his face crumpled, his demeanor defeated. "Please, Jess. Please do this for me. I don't want to be a monster; I don't w-want to… k-kill anymore. P-please."

Utter helplessness and desperation seemed to grip Jessica as she had, probably, never felt before. Harry felt as though could understand this fully. At the very least, he could imagine being in such a position.

How was anyone supposed to make a choice like this? How could you let another become a beast who only knew senseless killing and an insatiable hunger for flesh and blood? But, at the same time, how could you take the life of a friend, a person who had shared a life with you, grew up with you, lived and learned with you? How could you look someone in the eyes – very human eyes – and know that that person had to die and that you had to be the one to do it? Could you do it? Would you risk the lives of many just so your friend could live – even as a monster?

"Jess," Tyler began to beg again. He reached out his arms as though he would hold her, but did not move forward, keeping his distance. "Save me, Jess. Please, p-please d-don't let th-them have me. Please."

That seemed to get through to Jessica more than anything else had. The thought of the enemy getting hold of Tyler once more, the thought of them using him mercilessly to their own ends – it cut through the young woman, causing fresh wounds to open up in her heart. How could she allow them to take him again? How could she let them hurt him more?

Slowly, ever so reluctantly, as though still hoping someone would stop her from committing this heinous task, or take the burden off of her shoulders, the petite hunter raised her gun, gripping it tighter now. Her hand trembled uncontrollably, even as she stood her ground firmly. She brought up her left hand to steady her right. The shaking did not stop entirely, but it lessened a bit.

"Tyler," Jessica choked on the name. It was as if she were begging him now; beseeching him to stop her, to tell her not to do what she knew she must.

"Save me," was Tyler's only response, his voice so soft it almost didn't carry. He looked straight into Jessica's tear-stained face, holding her gaze, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry," the teenaged girl cried brokenly. "God, I am so, so sorry, Tyler."

For just one more second, which seemed to stretch for an eternity, the two friends simply gazed at one another. Shivers of grief and despair took over Jessica's small frame; tears flowed down her face in tiny rivulets, shining brightly in the dim light, and did not seem to have an end. Tyler blinked and a solitary tear of his own escaped his eyes. Despite this, however, a peace seemed to settle in his very core right then. This was all going to be over for him now, as he had wished and dreamed for so long. He was going to escape this unthinkable fate – he was going to be free. Seeing this, there was really nothing else for Jessica to do but aid her friend in attaining it.

"Goodbye."

Two shots rang out in quick succession. In the utter silence that seemed to settle over everything, the blasts were unnaturally loud, wringing in all their ears long after the bullets hit home. The first hit him in his heart, the second in his forehead, dead-center. His body crumbled to the ground, lifeless. Tyler Crowley was no more.

The gun fell from Jessica's hand. For a moment she, along with everything else, was eerily still – no one moved, no sound was made apart from the weapon's soft thud on the forest floor. Then, as if someone had un-paused the scene, Jessica fell to her knees. Unintelligible words escaped her lips and her body wracked with sobs – loud, pained cries that did not seem to want to stop.

Suddenly, Angela was beside her, taking her into her arms and weeping with her. There were no words – what could a person say in a situation such as this? She offered the only comfort she could at this time: the comfort of knowing you weren't alone – not in life, but, most especially, not in the pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" over and over again Jessica repeated the phrase. Her mind, her heart and her soul seemed broken, and Harry had to wonder if she would ever be truly whole again. He could not help but think that one as young as Jessica should not have to witness such a horrific act, let alone experience it first hand. Harry's heart cracked at the thought.

The war had only just begun and already the irremediable repercussions were being felt. If things continued in this vein, Harry had to wonder just how much more could be borne.

He did not like the answer.

**/A\**

**Author's Note: **K, so I don't know exactly how I feel about this chapter, except for that last scene. In case anyone didn't see it – that entire scene between Jessica and Tyler was my tribute to one of my all time favorite Supernatural episodes (titled 'Heart', Episode 17-Season 2, I believe). It was heartbreaking and beautiful and I hope I managed to do at least a little justice to it. Anyways, as always, let me know you thoughts. I truly do love hearing them! Please and Thank you :)


	12. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries** and **Anita Blake** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith and Laurell K. Hamilton, respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Hi all! I am SO, SO, SO sorry this is late (late being something of an understatement…). The only reason I can give for this is real life being overbearing (and also thinking and re-thinking this chapter until it was worthy of being posted). And let's not forget the exams. But, FINALLY, it is here :) Thank you so much to everybody reading and enjoying this story! And also for putting up with the wait. I hope this makes up for it. *Hugs* all round!

**/A\**

_Keep holding on_

_When my brain's ticking like a bomb_

_Guess the black thoughts have come again to get me_

_Sweet bitter words_

_Unlike nothing I have heard_

_Sing along mocking bird_

_You don't affect me…_

_Choke, choke again_

_I thought my demons were my friends_

_Getting me in the end_

_They're out to get me_

_Since I was young_

_I've tasted sorrow on my tongue_

_And the sweet sugar gun does not protect me…_

_Wait_

_I'm coming undone_

_Irate_

_I'm coming undone_

_Too late_

_I'm coming undone_

_What looks so strong so delicate_

_Wait_

_I'm starting to suffocate_

_And soon I anticipate_

_I'm coming undone_

_What looks so strong so delicate_

»Korn – Coming Undone«

**/A\**

Chapter Eleven:

Not one of them had suspected. Who would during a funeral?

The procession for Tyler had been a rather grand affair – as much as a funeral could be considered such. Everyone who had known Tyler from school, even if they had only met him one or two times, turned up to pay their respects. Beth Crowley, being the lost teenager's mother, was naturally distraught; she had to be almost physically restrained by her husband, lest she fall into the grave after the coffin went down.

Having thought it through, Harry and the rest had made it so the body would be found, not too far out of the town of Forks, and, with the use of his magic, made the death look at least a couple of weeks old. Neither Harry, nor anyone else really, liked the idea of disrespect to the dead, but it had to be done. In the end, Tyler's killing would go down as one of the many unsolved cases in history – just another tragic murder.

Jessica, who had cried herself into a restless sleep on the night of the shooting, was no longer vocal in her grief. It would be a long time before she managed to come to terms with what she had had to do, a long time before the empty look left her eyes. Harry ached for her, but beyond the usual comfort did not know what else he could do. For all his gifts, all his magic, he found it almost unbearable that in this instance he felt so utterly useless.

The young huntress no longer shed any tears. Now it seemed as though she had somehow sunk into herself, so that she seemed no more than a shell of her former happy-go-lucky self. Apart from her eyes having taken on a haunted, hollow look, there were also dark circles under them, and her skin had an unhealthy ashen appearance. For all this, however, she carried herself stronger than ever. She poured every ounce of her energy into training; and she trained harder and longer than she ever had before, spending almost every minute of her free time on it.

Her mother, Sharon, was terrified for her; instead of talking to anyone, or leaning on anyone in order to draw strength, Jessica had subtly, yet firmly rebuffed any and all comfort that was given to her. She was choosing, though she hardly needed to, to bare her burden alone. This worried not just her family, but all of her comrades alike – they feared she may just break under the weight. And now this had happened, right under all of their noses and at the worst possible time.

Angela was gone.

**A…A**

"I should have seen this coming!" ranted Harry, the day after Angela's absence was discovered. "I should have known – I could have _done_ something!"

"Don't," placated Edward firmly, offering his mate what comfort he could, which Harry reluctantly accepted. "Don't do this to yourself, love. You could not have known."

"That does not change the fact that I should have been more alert!" asserted Harry stubbornly, insistent on berating himself.

"Then the same can be said for the rest of us," Jasper put in resolutely.

They had discovered (or rather stumbled upon) the fact that Angela had been taken not long after the funeral. She was not present when everyone else had decided to take their leave from the graveyard and, upon going home to check there, Diane had noted that her daughter had, seemingly, vanished. Every spot they could think of that the teen would go to was searched, which turned up nothing. In any event, all were in agreement that Angela would not have simply left the funeral on her own, and especially not without informing anyone.

Harry had then used his ability to feel and read auras in order to locate her. All that he found was residual traces of the teenaged girl, and nothing strong enough to pinpoint her location. In most cases, this meant that the owner of the aura was no longer living; however, Harry had vehemently assured them that it could also mean that she was merely unconscious. While this did offer some relief, it hardly put anyone at ease. They could all guess as to what this meant.

Dumbledore was now yet another step closer in achieving his goal, to reopening the Core.

"But I knew…" Harry continued, almost brokenly, and as though Jasper had not spoken at all. "I knew."

"What did you know, dear?" asked Esme, unhappy at seeing Harry so upset.

Harry looked up at Esme as if he were only then remembering that there were others in the room. For a long moment he did not respond, but then took a deep breath, steeling himself.

"Angela is a direct descendent of Morgana La Fey," he said softly, as if this would explain his state of self-blame.

"What does that mean, exactly?" asked Emmett, being as non-confrontational as he could.

"Morgana was one of the greatest witches of all time," Harry explained, keeping his tone just as quiet. "Her immense power lives on in Angela. Ang rarely taps into it, though, because she is still in training, but that doesn't change the fact that it's there."

"A powerful witch," said Jasper in understanding, "a powerful sacrifice."

Harry could only nod, his remorse great.

"Right," Emmett said, clapping his hands together once, his determination evident, "so, what's the plan?"

**A…A**

Angela came to with a great start. Icy water cascaded down her head, over her face and soaked through every bit of her clothing. She spluttered, shaking her head to both remove the water from her eyes, and to get rid of her lingering unconsciousness. The fog in her head was thick, though, and this took a bit longer than she would have liked.

Shivering from the cold and trepidation, she slowly lifted her head to get her bearings – attempting all the while, and with every effort, to stave off any panic that wanted to claw its way out of her. The place she was in, however, was too dark to make out much; only a couple of lanterns burned from their brackets in the walls, one on either end of the room. She couldn't even see the being that had doused her with water. There was enough shadow to hide oneself in, in this space – especially for Vampires (whom she was certain were responsible for the situation she now found herself in).

"Look, brother mine," Angela heard a simpering voice (that of a little girl) say, the glee all too evident, "our little witch is finally awake. Hello, little witch."

Angela didn't respond. There was something about this voice, something sinister that bode ill she couldn't begin to explain. It was there, though, undeniable. The teenager's breathing picked up noticeably.

"The polite thing to do would be to greet back, child," said the voice, and the Vampire finally revealed herself. Angela gasped.

The Vampire was no more than a girl – looking to be only about fifteen years old, or so – with blond hair framing her face, deeply crimson eyes and a disturbing smile. Evil. That was the only word Angela could think of to accurately describe the being before her. The other Vampire that stepped forward into the light (the brother, if Angela were to guess) looked just as angelic, just as malevolent as the girl, but was more passive. This did nothing to reassure Angela, however. The quiet ones always tended to be more vicious, if it came to that.

"No matter," the girl continued, staring disconcertingly. "There's no need for you to speak – you will be screaming soon enough."

The Vampire's smile widened; she and her brother moved apart slightly, as one, and another being stepped into the room. This Vampire – another female – was different to the other two, in ways Angela couldn't quite place. From what the teen could see, she appeared slightly older; she also looked softer somehow. Deep ginger hair flowed down her back and she was tall and curvy – model-like. While her eyes, too, were red, they were far more terrifying than the other two Vampires could pull off. This was not because she looked more powerful, or more evil, but simply because these eyes were completely dead. There was not a trace of emotion in this Vampire at all.

The urge to bow her head and give in to defeat, to cry with no end, overwhelmed Angela then. Somehow, she kept her head up, though, staring straight into the abyss.

"Little witch," said the smaller girl then, her grin sadistic, "meet Ginevra. Ginevra, meet your new plaything. Have fun…."

And then, surprising as it was, Angela was terrified to see the sister and brother duo leave. For some indefinable reason, she would much rather take her chances with them than the red-head Vampire. With them, she might have been able to use distraction tactics, played with their emotions, set them off course. How did you fight against someone hollow, though?

Angela's breathing was erratic now, as though she'd just sprinted a mile. Her heart was beating so hard, so fast, that it was painful. She struggled against her bonds, hoping against hope to find a weakness in them. There was none.

"Please," the teenager gasped out, trying even though she knew it would do her no good. "Please… don't do this… j-just – just let me g-go… please!"

The Vampire – Ginevra – kept advancing as though she hadn't even heard the pleas. Her expression didn't change a bit – in fact, there was no expression on her face at all – and her movements, while flowing and graceful, also had a robotic quality to them. Apart from the fact that she was moving, this being was the very definition of a corpse.

"P-please… no," whimpered Angela weakly, tears leaking out of her eyes unchecked.

Ginevra raised her hand and ripped open the teen's shirt as easily as if it were made of tissue paper. The Vampire then pressed her nail to Angela's skin and cut – a long, thin but deep line just beneath her collarbone. The red-head lowered her mouth to the wound.

Angela screamed. Ginevra drank.

**A…A**

The morale of their ranks, Harry contemplated, was unspeakably, but unsurprisingly, low. The death of a close, childhood friend was a tragic thing indeed – not something one can easily overcome. Coupled with the abduction of another dear one, though, and a fellow soldier at that, was testing and straining nerves like little else could.

Atop all of that, though, Dumbledore's latest attack was made known, and it was one of the worst yet – not because it was more horrific than any other, but because the assault had been more personal. He had chosen to attack the Veela community that Draco and his Seraph belonged to – a fact that hurt Harry most deeply. He may have chosen Edward over Draco all those years ago, but he still cared for the blond Veela immensely. Beyond that, however, he still had the tendency to take on guilt that was not his to take. He believed, quite firmly, that if not for the relationship this particular Veela community (and Draco specifically) had with him, then this damage might not have occurred at all. And if it did still happen, then it would not have been as bad.

There was nothing to be done now, though. Draco and the Seraph had left as soon as word had reached them; they needed to fight for their people (as the battle at their community was still raging by the time they left Forks), and they wanted to diminish as much destruction as they could. Harry and everyone else had understood, without need of any explanation.

Even with this understanding, though, it did not change the fact that their band of fighters was now reduced, and just as they were about to go up against an army. Harry wasn't blind to Dumbledore's strategy – it was, after all, rather simple to deduce and not subtle in the least. Dumbledore had attacked Draco's Veela community specifically, making sure that the Seraph left in order to lessen their numbers. This increased Dumbledore's chances of victory greatly. It was something not lost on any one of them, no matter how young or old, experienced or not.

Looking to his current companions, Harry could see the tension, and fear, this caused plainly in the furrow of their brows and the stiff set of their shoulders – as though a weight was pressing down on their backs.

Jessica, Mike and Eric were, at present, walking the short distance between where they had to park their cars, and the designated training ground on Quileute land. Harry was accompanying them; in light of recent events, it was decided that none should venture anywhere alone and, if they were human (regardless of their skills and knowledge), were to be to do so in the presence of at least one supernatural comrade. No one had argued with this new practice. In fact, everyone had wholeheartedly agreed, immediately understanding the need for this.

Dusk was fast approaching, now, and they were all to convene at the clearing shortly, before heading to Forks Cemetery. They were fairly certain that Dumbledore and his army were already here, in Forks. If that was the case, that meant that he was ready to move forward with his plan. While they did not have any definite knowledge as to what was going to happen, they could not afford to wait, either. That night was the third and last night of the full moon. Whatever Dumbledore planned to do (and they had rather a good idea of what that was, now that he had Angela), he would attempt it on this night. They had to act now – or bear the consequences. And the young Daemon was not sure that they could.

Harry glanced surreptitiously at Jessica. In all honesty, he was more than a little worried about her – as they all were. This was to be expected. He, however, also held steadfastly to the belief that she would not lose herself in a downward spiral. She was distraught still, of course she was. He knew that she had a good head on her shoulders, though. It was for this reason that Harry had complete faith in her. She would mourn, as was her right, but she would be all the more empowered by her experience (as much as he hated that she had had to experience such a thing at all). She knew just how much she had that was worth fighting for, and she would fight with her all. That was her nature.

Harry felt great respect for her, and was immensely proud of her – not only because of the person that she was, but also because she was the very reason that one could never give up on the human race, but always have faith in them. This only strengthened his firm conviction that humanity was worth protecting, worth saving. In this instance, it was Dumbledore who could not be more wrong.

He sighed then, inaudibly. Knowing this, however, did not change the fact that his nemesis was moving closer and closer still to his goal. It made it vastly more pressing that they stop him, of course. But it also increased the weight upon their shoulders; the pressure was now becoming unbearable. Bear it they must, though. There was no other option.

Harry stopped suddenly, motioning for the others to do the same. He moved in front of them, standing between them and where he perceived the danger to be – and he definitely felt the danger, even if he could not see it yet.

Everything had gone eerily silent, strangely still. It was as if the very forest was holding its breath. The four of them were currently on a well-worn path running through the woods, which would take them straight into the clearing where their training was held. They still had some way to go before they reached their destination, however, and now more than ever they could feel their isolation from everyone else. The woods stretched out, far and wide, on either side of them. The path was the only thing they could see, extend both to the front and back of them.

This was the perfect place for an ambush.

"What do you know?," a soft voice said, childlike yet mocking at once, as a seemingly young girl stepped forward, out of the cover of the trees, accompanied by a boy who looked just as young. "If it isn't the Golden Boy himself. I have so been looking forward to meeting you."

"I would be lying if I said I felt the same way," Harry replied, his tone civil but with a hard edge to his voice and a cold glint in his eyes. "To what do you we owe the… _pleasure_ of this visit, Jane, Alec?"

The girl and her companion's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, before boredom settled on both their features.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you know of us, should I?" Jane said, her voice cooler now, her gaze calculating, before switching once again, with frightening ease, to the persona of a blithe, sweet girl. "After all, we know quite a bit about you… and your entourage."

Her gaze moved swiftly over to Jessica as she said this, her smile widening and becoming cruel.

"Jessica, right?" she asked the teenaged girl.

Harry stiffened and made certain that Jessica, and the rest, were still behind him so he could better defend them. Jane did not seem to be inclined to attack, though – at least, not physically. Her words, however, cut deeply.

"How did it feel to pull the trigger?" Jane asked cheerily, not waiting for Jessica to respond. "How does it feel to be a murderer?"

Jessica shook visibly, but her gaze was steady and defiant; she clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists, but refused to give in to Jane's taunting, refused her the satisfaction.

"I have to say," continued Jane, seemingly unfazed by the lack of reaction, "I never believed you'd actually go through with it – killing your own friend, someone so very dear to you. I commend you. Not many others would have had the backbone to do such a thing – you'd make quite a Vampire."

She paused here, allowing her words to take hold, allowing the idea to take shape. She then spoke again.

"What do you say, Jessica? Forever young, super-strength, super-speed, possibly even a special gift – think of how truly great you could be, how unstoppable! I could help you reach your fullest potential, the likes of which you'd never reach as a pathetic _human_. Wouldn't you like that, Jessica?"

"I'd rather be a '_pathetic human_' than be anything like you – soulless!" spat Jessica, the venom and hate in her voice unadulterated. If it were possible, Harry had no doubt that sparks would have flown from her eyes.

"I didn't realize you were one of those ignorant enough to believe Vampires to be soulless," Jane sneered, her expression becoming ugly.

"I'm not," replied Jessica simply. "But I definitely believe _you_ are. You're _disgusting_!"

Instantly, Jessica fell to her knees, earsplitting shrieks resounding through the still atmosphere, as Jane made full use of her gift of torture.

Not a split second later, Harry rushed forward. He delivered a would-be lethal uppercut to Jane, immediately stopping the pain she was causing to Jessica. Her head snapped back and she stumbled a few paces. By the time she had recovered, though, Harry had already rounded on Alec, who had moved to defend his sister, and kicked him squarely in his chest. The Vampire was sent flying into one of the nearby trees with such force that it bent back, the bark breaking quite a bit.

Not wasting any time, Harry sent up an invisible barrier between the Vampire siblings and himself and the teenagers. This would stop the twins from being able to get to them, either physically or by use of their gifts, but would not stop Harry from attacking them, if need be.

"Enough!" the raven-haired being said. His voice was low, but undoubtedly dangerous, his evergreen eyes glowing in the dimness of the woods. He was crouched in a defensive position, but remained still, simply watching the threat before him.

Jane stared for a moment, full of barely restrained fury, but also a certain amount of apprehension. She rubbed, almost absentmindedly, at her jaw – not because she was in any pain, but because she was still reeling from the fact that she had left herself open to such a hit. The hatred in her eyes as she looked at Harry was palpable. He looked back, unimpressed.

Taking a deep breath, Jane visibly calmed herself, her twin doing the same, taking his cue from her.

"Disgusting, am I?" she asked, dropping her innocent little girl act and turning back to Jessica. She smirked then, and it was a menacing thing. "Well, your _friend_ doesn't seem to share your opinion."

She turned her head to look to the other side of Harry, still grinning, before speaking again.

"Do you, Mikey?"

Jessica snapped her gaze to the boy in question, looking confused. Harry, too, glanced at Mike – just in time to see his eyes widen in fear… and guilt. Harry frowned, not liking where this was going. A sense of foreboding gripped him as the possibilities of what this could mean came to him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" bit out Jessica, glaring at Jane again. "Mike is against you! He's always been against you and everything you stand for!"

Jane made a pitying sound, shaking her head slowly and awarding Jessica with a disappointed look.

"Shows how little you know, child," she said softly, delighting in the tension she was causing. "Dear Michael here came to us; we did not seek him out, he approached _us_ of his own free will. Said he had a proposition for us – said that he'd help us if we, in exchange, gave him what he wanted. Mikey, at least, understands the limitations of being _human_. I guess he got sick of being so low down on the food chain. He wants to be turned. Didn't he tell you?"

"You're lying!" Jessica refuted instantly, angered but fearful. "You have to be… there's no way… Mike wouldn't do that!"

Jane laughed outright, a melodious, terrifying sound. "Denial will do little for you now, girl. Dig deeper – you'll find your faith in your friend is… misplaced."

"Mike?" Jessica asked then, ignoring Jane entirely, though clearly affected by what she was saying, and turning to the other teenager. Her voice and her gaze were firm, but Harry noticed her hands shaking slightly, the only outward sign she showed of her distress. "She's lying, isn't she? Tell me… tell me she's lying. She's delusional, right?"

The young hunter looked resolved in finding out the truth, but there was a beseeching look in her eyes as she stared at Mike. She did want honest answers, yes, but at the same time she was pleading for her suspicions to be unfounded. Eric merely looked astounded at all he was only now discovering. He seemed to be having trouble merging all that he had known to be true with these new accusations.

"I-I don't…" Mike stuttered out, not meeting Jessica's gaze and seemingly not being able to speak either.

"Come now," Jane said when it was obvious that Mike would say no more, and rolling her eyes at the both of them. "You have all the pieces of the puzzle, girl! It shouldn't be too difficult to put it together. Then you'll realize that I speak only the truth. There's no defying logic, I'm afraid."

Jessica turned to face Jane once again, but her eyes were unfocused as she thought of all that she knew, all that had occurred previously. As such, she missed the stricken look that came over Mike's face, like a deer caught in headlights. Harry saw, though, and it was just about enough to confirm his suspicions. Mike was the mole. The emerald-eyed being was disappointed, to be sure, but he knew that it was nothing compared to what Mike's friends and family would feel.

"Let me help you out, shall I?" Jane said, her tone becoming genial, her demeanor mock-charitable. "How is it that, after being a closely guarded secret for generations, the Volturi discovered the existence of the Quileute pack? And when only your band of brats knew of them, at that?"

She paused here, watching with keen, ruthless eyes as her words began to make sense to Jessica. She then continued.

"How is it that we, the outsiders, are able to navigate this land as though it was our own?"

Jessica's head was down; her breathing was picking up now, her heart rate increasing at an alarming rate. If she did not pull herself together soon, Harry feared she would begin to hyperventilate. Harry understood, however; she was fighting the information she was receiving, resisting the logic of it – she did not wish to believe that it was true.

"How is it," persisted Jane, though her voice had now dropped to a stage whisper, her eyes wide with fake sympathy, "that we became privy to… Angela's heritage?"

The young woman's head snapped up at that, her eyes widening almost comically. It did not take long at all, Harry noted, before the near panic Jessica had just been experiencing changed to fury. Her eyes flashed and she ground her teeth; her fists were clenched so tight that her nails were digging into her skin. She seemed to physically choke on the realization as it sank in fully.

"You…" she spluttered, turning to face Mike, though her eyes were glazed as she grasped every implication brought about by this terrible news. "Y-you – you did… you caused…"

The teenager could not even form whole thoughts, let alone express them. The weight of Mike's – her supposed _friend_ – betrayal seemed to crush her bodily.

"How the _fuck_ could you do this?" she suddenly screamed out, her gaze now on Mike and heated enough to scorch. Jane simply stepped back, sneering sadistically as she watched the chaos she caused unfold. Mike, for his part, could not seem to bring himself to meet Jessica's eyes.

"Did you know?"

She moved quickly over to the boy, grabbing Mike's arm in a grip that probably bruised him instantly, swinging him around to face her and all her rage.

"Did you know about Tyler?" she yelled at him, clarifying her question while shaking him violently. "Did you _fucking_ know?"

"N-no!" Mike stuttered out, apparently horrified at her query, as well as her aggression. "No! Jess… I wouldn't – I had no idea! I swear it! I would _never_ have done that to Tyler! To _anyone_!"

"Why not?" asked Jessica, no longer shouting. This did nothing to belie her intense anger, however. Her tone now was snide, instead, meaning to cut with every word. "You did it to Angela, didn't you?"

"NO!" shouted Mike, aghast. "No, I didn't. I just slipped. I didn't think it would mean anything! He… he knows lots of magical people – I didn't think it would matter – him knowing about Angela being a witch!"

"You didn't _think_ at all!" yelled Jessica, her frustration, anger and, most of all, hurt taking control again. "How could you…? How could you betray us like this?"

Tears were making their way down the teen's cheeks, but she paid them no mind. She looked so absolutely broken up inside, so lost. Everything was turning inside out and she, obviously, was having trouble getting a firm grip on anything solid. Harry could more than comprehend this.

"You don't know what it's like!" Mike burst out, his own frustration and guilt eating through to the surface. "Being nothing! You don't know! Do you know what it feels like, having such a strong magical parent and being a _squib_? Do you know what it feels like, spending every day, day in and day out, with such… such extraordinary people, while remaining _ordinary_? You don't!

"Every day, _every day_, I have to wake up realizing that we're in the middle of a war – and I can do _nothing_ to help. I _research_."

Mike spat the word out as though it left a disgusting taste in his mouth.

"I am _weak_! I'm so fucking weak that it makes me _sick_! And I didn't want to be nothing anymore. Can't you understand that? I was tired of being _useless_! So, yes, when the opportunity presented itself, I took it. This was my chance to be something more, something great. Think of how much more I could help if only I had power! Why would I let that go?"

"Oh, I don't know," Jessica replied sarcastically, "maybe to _not_ be a traitor; maybe to not hurt your friends and family, not matter the _reward_; maybe to help people, to _save_ people, instead of handing them over like sacrificial lambs! Maybe, _just maybe_, to remain a _decent_ human being! Oh, but that's right… you don't even want to be a human anymore. I guess that makes it a moot point, huh?"

"Jess..." Mike whispered, broken and alone, his own eyes glistening.

"You know what?" said Jessica, turning away from her once-friend, her tone hard as she blinked away the tears as best she could. "Fuck you."

Steadily, her shoulders back and head held high, Jessica began walking away from Mike. She was leaving him behind – literally and figuratively. Harry let her keep going, but remained vigilant towards the Vampire twins. They did not seem to have any desire to attack, however, having wrought the inner destruction they had intended to. Harry could see that clearly now. This wasn't an ambush, not of the traditional kind; this was to create a rift in their ranks, to weaken them from within. He was sad to say that it was working.

"Jess!" Mike called out, his voice choking, desperate. "I'm sorry! Jess! Eric, man! Please!"

The seventeen-year old girl just kept on walking, though, and Eric joined her, still in shock but not looking back after gracing Mike with one last, deeply wounded look. They never once indicated that they even heard the shouted pleas and apologies of Mike. Harry knew they could hear, however, and he knew that it was eating away at them from the inside. Jessica, especially, having been through what she had in such a short time, would be weighted down by so much more than most could handle.

It was never an easy thing having a person, whom you believed you could trust with your life, show you how very wrong you were. But Harry kept his faith in the girl firm.

Jessica Stanley had, if not the strength, then the certainly the stubbornness to rise above this – as with everything else. And Harry knew exactly what all of that felt like – to want to break down and cry when you had to show no weakness; to keep pushing on when you wanted to collapse under the strain; to have to keep your faith strong even when all you wanted to do was rage at world, and blame anyone and everyone for your misfortunes.

No, it was not easy, but it was possible. Jessica would survive this and would still be standing at the end of it all – Harry would make sure of it.

"If that's all," Harry said, forcing disdain into his tone and already turning away from the twins.

"It is," replied Jane happily, grinning at him and Mike both. "From us, at any rate…."

Harry looked at her sharply, warning bells going off inside his head.

"You should hurry along now," Jane said simply, earnestly. "I'm sure you wouldn't like to delay a reunion with your past, would you, _Lord_ Potter?"

A confused frown crossed Harry's features, but he could not shake the bad feeling that was growing within him.

"Fenrir did say how he's been looking forward to meeting you again."

Harry's eyes widened then, as the implications of her words hit him. Not now, he thought in dismay, not so soon after their last blow.

He grabbed hold of Mike, rougher than he had intended, but just before he teleported he heard Jane's parting words in a sing-song voice.

"Run, run, run as fast as you can…"

Harry gritted his teeth and transported himself and Mike over to Jessica and Eric. The other two teenagers weren't very far ahead of them, but no time could be wasted. Reaching the young hunter and the tech-genius, Harry made sure he was touching all three of his charges. He teleported again, straight onto the training ground – and right in the middle of a confrontation.

Harry took in the scene around him with a highly trained eye. Fenrir Greyback – the werewolf of nightmares, and someone he did not count on seeing again – was a few feet in front of him; his pack stationed behind him. None of them had transformed yet, as the full moon had not yet ascended. That did not make them any less threatening, however. Harry knew full well that it would not stop them from attacking either – insane as they were, taking their lead from their Alpha. This was probably why Dumbledore was making use of them, the raven-haired being surmised.

In all likelihood, Dumbledore was aware (or had suspicions) of just who Jacob Black was, the power he held. With this particular pack's mental state, though, not even Jake would be able to control them. They were too volatile, too far gone in their lunacy for any rules and constraints to apply to them. This made them the ideal opponents when facing off to the Descendant and his pack.

Looking to his left and behind him, Harry saw that Jake and the rest of the Quileute pack had already transformed and were on the defensive, awaiting the attack. The Cullens and the Council of Forks were standing further behind – out of the way of the actual confrontation, but near enough that they could step in and assist, should this be required.

"To the gazebo now," Harry said firmly to the three teenagers with him, in a tone that brooked no argument. They complied without hesitation, sensing the urgency and danger before them.

Harry then implored Jake to open up his mind to him, allowing them to communicate; making sure that Edward, too, was listening via his gift. He passed on all the information he had on Greyback and his pack to the Black heir, and his pack. He made sure that Jacob was aware of just how unpredictable and how unstable this new werewolf really was, ensuring that he did not underestimate him – even in his human form. He also told them that these particular werewolves would not hesitate to strike the town and its innocents, simply to weaken the Quileute pack. Greyback wouldn't just aim to kill, after all, and would seek to infect many as well – his preference being children, though not limited to them.

By the time Harry was done giving them all he could, almost all of the Quileute wolves were growling menacingly, outraged at how callous a threat they were facing.

_Yet again, this assault is strategic_, Harry said through the mind link. _Not all of us will be able to stay and aid this fight – it is imperative that we move in on Dumbledore now. Angela must be saved._

_I understand_, Jacob said in his no-nonsense tone, keeping his eyes on the target. _We'll be fine_.

Harry was about to rebuke the Quileute Alpha's statement, worried that he was being far too hasty in his assumption, but Jake intercepted him.

_I'm not being lax, Harry_, he said firmly, sincerely. _And I'm not underestimating the danger we face. This is just one of those 'no options' scenarios – we have no option but to deal. We'll deal. These asses have threatened far too much that we care about; we're not about to let them follow through. The alternative is the town being attacked, innocents killed. That's just not going to happen – not on my watch_.

Harry thought on that for a moment before nodding decisively. He trusted not only the words, but the Alpha himself.

_Very well_, Harry said, making up his mind as to how they were going to move forward. _The Webers, the Stanleys and Mike Newton will accompany me; everyone else, including Hermione, shall remain behind to assist_.

_I'll be accompanying you as well_, Edward sent out firmly, clearly allowing for no disagreement.

Harry could understand this. Edward had already been expected to separate from his Chosen for one battle (not including the initial war against Voldemort) – none could expect him to not be by Harry's side once again. Taking this into account, Harry nodded his acceptance.

"Edward," was all Harry said aloud, but it was enough.

The Vampire immediately understood what was being asked of him, and began getting together all those that would be heading out to confront Dumbledore. Like the close and well-trained unit that they had become, no one questioned what was going on – even though only a few had been privy to the telepathic conversation that had taken place not long previously.

Once everyone was ready, having discerned the gist of what was to take place, Harry nodded again.

"Head out," he said quietly, commandingly, and was met with near instant compliance.

He noted, without much surprise, that the Cullens had, amongst themselves, come to a decision as well. It seemed that Jasper and Alice would be accompanying Edward, while the rest remained – not wanting to break up any of the mated pairs. Emmett remained to make up for the lack of the resident Vampire soldier, Jasper, with his excessive brawn. Carlisle remained to ensure that the injured would be taken care of when this particular clash came to a close.

Harry silently approved and hoped to whichever deities existed that it would be enough.

_Good luck_, Harry sent out to Jacob and the rest of the pack, as well as all those assisting even though they would not hear him.

Jake acknowledged this with a single nod as Harry headed out as well, while not taking his eyes off of Greyback and his pack. The only sign the opposing werewolf gave at this was a slight widening of his eyes, showing his surprise at the split.

No one had much time to react beyond that, however, as one of Greyback's pack seemed to lose all patience and attacked. Just like that, the fight had begun – no preparation, no warning. Harry was, for a second, torn. His very nature urged him to step in, aid in the battle, and keep as many people from harm that he could. His need to save Angela, though, and his absolute refusal to allow Dumbledore to destroy everything and everyone, won out in the end.

Steeling himself, he reinforced his resolve and continued on. May the Fates be with them all.

**A…A**

It did not take them too long to get past the opposition that met them at the cemetery. Having already considerably cut down the number of Lycans in Dumbledore's forces, there weren't too many of them taking part in this battle. This made sense to Harry, considering that the Ancient still required some Lycans for the reopening of the Core; he would not risk losing them all and most likely kept some under close watch.

The real hindrance came from the Vampires they had to face. They had all turned out to be part of the Volturi guard, making them quite formidable in their offence.

Regardless of this, there were many factors against them that were also the advantage of Harry and his unit. For one, the magic used by witches and wizards was something that the Volturi had little exposure to, if any. Due to this, they had no practical experience in defending themselves against it. For another, the fact that the Italian coven's guard had never truly been challenged, until now, caused them to be quite complacent. Their arrogance in their skills, be it their fighting abilities or their gifts, had made them rather lax in their assault. They realized this quickly, of course, and attempted to counter their mistake. Try as they might, however, they could find no hole, no weak link, in Harry's ranks and before long they had either been taken out, or had retreated.

The entrance that would take them underground, as they then found out, was a decrepit mausoleum. Though it did not look like much now, they could all tell that it must once have been a rather prestigious structure – especially for such a small town. Presently, however, it was more gray than its original white; the paint was peeling (or completely washed out in some places); much of the stone was chipped away and crumbling (either due to natural circumstances or vandalism); and there was graffiti in more places than not. The grounds immediately surrounding the edifice spoke of much the same neglect, having apparently not been tended in a long time – if the tall and unkempt weeds were anything to go by.

The fact that the weeds were brown and dried out, and that no other life besides this could be seen around the crypt, was very telling, though. It is this, as well as Harry's ability to detect ambient magic (or, in this case, complete lack thereof), that made them absolutely certain that only this could be the entryway they sought.

The fact that they came across no other sentries as they made their way further underground, searching for the correct chamber, worried them greatly. This was not because they expected them, but more because they feared that the ritual – the one that would rob Angela of her life – had already begun.

Suddenly, they all stopped as one. Seemingly out of nowhere, a figure now stood before them – a female Vampire, curvy with sleek, flowing red hair.

"Ginny," Harry whispered, his voice pained and resigned at the same time.

"Harry Potter," said Ginny, her voice (like her eyes) hollow – as though she were merely stating a random name, instead of making a greeting. "Come. Master waits."

With that, Ginny turned swiftly and walked on, not once looking back to see if they followed. They did.

While those last two simple words brought some relief to their group, telling them that the ceremony had not yet started and that Angela must still be alive, they could feel the added tension that this unknown Vampire's presence had wrought – most especially in Harry, though Edward, too, seemed more rigid.

"Who's that?" whispered Jessica suspiciously, even though she knew well that the Vampire could hear regardless.

Harry paused before answering and, when he did, he did not give away much.

"Someone else from my past."

While this did not answer her question, Jessica seemed to understand that now was not the time to push for such information. Now they could be focused on one thing and one thing only – stopping Dumbledore.

Not much further underground, Ginny stopped just past an open entryway. Gesturing with one hand, she simply said, "Enter."

It was impossible to even bristle at being commanded about by the enemy because, in the case of Ginny, she did not even sound as though she were giving a command. Once again, it was as if she had just picked a random word and simply said it aloud – no emotion, no inflection.

Harry gave Ginny one last, helpless glance. He wished so thoroughly that he could reach her somehow, get back the friend she had once been before… before Dumbledore. Yet again, it came down to one being, the cause of so much strife in his life. And it was just the thought Harry needed in that moment to keep going. He _would_ end this.

With a deep breath, the emerald-eyed being took the lead and entered first.

The chamber they walked into was not overly large, but big enough. It was nearly a perfectly round space, made almost entirely of black stone. The walls and ceiling were rough, with many jagged edges, and were rather damp – which was understandable considering they were below ground. It was dimly lit, only having half a dozen or so large burning torches scattered throughout the cavern, but there was enough light for them to see all they needed to.

To their right, at the far end of the room, was a row of four cages carved into the walls – the only modern addition being the reinforced iron bars closing them off. Three of these cages held Lycans, all fully alert and snarling furiously at being confined. Harry could tell that these were pureblooded Lycans – born, not made.

In the fourth cage at the furthest end was a man. He did not seem to be in poor condition, his clothes just a bit worn and dirty, but otherwise in good enough health. Harry recognized him immediately as Nicholas Flamel. He seemed to recognize Harry in turn, as could be seen when he turned his brilliant, perfectly lucid eyes upon the younger being. The shine that entered his gaze then, full of hope and approval, caused Harry's heart to clench painfully. It sharply brought into focus what he was expected to accomplish, and the weight of the task seemed to increase. The raven-haired one worked hard to keep his fears and uncertainties off of his features, and especially out of his eyes. He refused to be the cause of hope faltering.

With an almost imperceptible nod to the elder, Harry allowed his gaze to move, taking in the rest of the sight before them – and his heart almost stopped dead.

In the very center of the chamber lay Angela. The sight of her caused Harry the worst of his pain yet. She was clothed in a simple knee-length cotton dress. It was completely white and the significance of this was not lost on Harry. It stated, quite plainly, that Dumbledore had acquired a sacrifice that was not just strong, but a virgin as well – power as well as purity. He felt nauseous as he thought of it.

The teenaged girl was completely still, but the telltale rise and fall of her chest could clearly be seen. One could well believe her to simply be in slumber – if not for the extensive and very visible bruising that graced her form. On impulse, Harry pulled in a breath through his nose. He growled lowly when he realized, from the scent he'd just got, that Angela had some small injuries that had bled recently along with those bruises. Before he could think to react, though, Jessica did.

"You _bastard_!" she screeched, having taken in the sight of her best friend and the state she was in. "I'll _kill_ you!"

Before she could move, however, intending to fly straight to Dumbledore (and possibly her death), Harry grabbed hold of her and refused to let go. Her eyes flashed in barely restrained rage when she rounded on the Daemon. Harry met her gaze with a calm, firm one of his own, willing her to calm enough to at least think more clearly. If they were to get ahead of themselves, they would be more harm than help to Angela. Eventually, Jessica got a hold on her emotions and stood down. Harry released her once he was certain of this and turned to face their opposition for the first time.

Standing foremost were the twins, Jane and Alec, looking (in Jane's case) ever malicious and (in Alec's case) ever jaded. Harry could tell that this was not accurate where the latter was concerned, due to the fiendish gleam in his eyes.

Just behind the siblings there stood a dangerously dark figure. This was not due to any monstrous appearance or any outward menace, but rather because of whom this being was and all that he represented. This, Harry could easily tell, was Blaise Zabini, Dumbledore's necromancer.

He stood at about six feet in height and was thin, but not unattractively so. His skin had a beautiful bronze tone and seemed as smooth as marble. Atop that, he possessed strong, handsome facial features and an apparent aloofness – making him rather aesthetically pleasing in the eyes of many. He was relatively young, considering the branch of magic that he practiced, but what he lacked in age, he more than made up for with skill and power. Shadows shrouded him as though in an embrace and he seemed perfectly comfortable among them. While his black eyes were rather indifferent currently, a deep intelligence and wisdom could very easily be seen in them. Blaise stood with his arms folded neatly behind him, simply watching the new arrivals – no more than a mild interest showing on his face – awaiting Dumbledore's orders.

Dumbledore, himself, had been standing patiently next to Blaise all this time. He looked, to Harry, just as he always had – benign, eccentric, wise, collected and very powerful. It broke his heart to see this. He almost felt as though there should be at least some outward changes to the Ancient, seeing as how profound the inner changes in him were. He stepped forward now, coming to the very front of his small group, his maroon and gold robes swirling around him and his crimson eyes sparkling.

"Harry, my boy," he said softly, but happily – as though merely greeting a dear and favored family member after a long time apart, and not the being he'd so thoroughly betrayed. "I am so glad you could join us – I knew you would. If you don't mind my saying, you've always been rather predictable in such situations."

"Albus," Harry said by way of a greeting. He tried to keep his tone inflectionless, but some of his sadness had managed to creep in.

His eyes locked with Dumbledore's then, something Harry did not have to fear as his mental shields were strong enough to hold against the elder being's gift. For a moment, though, which seemed to stretch on for hours, it was as if Harry were transported into the past, remembering times long gone.

He remembered growing up under the benign, eccentric, yet ever watchful eyes of his mentor. He remembered how blessed he had felt having Albus in his life, taking him in, raising him, teaching him… loving him. The ancient being had quickly taken on the role of grandfather in Harry's life, becoming the only real family he'd ever had. Because of Albus' cares and attentions, the young boy that he had been had never had to wonder – wonder what it was like to have a family. Under Albus' guardianship, he knew joy and love of friends and was given a life beyond his purpose. He was given a home.

He remembered all his lessons, his experiences with Albus, and all his adventures. He remembered fun and laughter; he remembered compassion and strength. He remembered Albus' love for him – as true now as it was then, despite all that had happened since.

He then remembered the cave. He recalled the potion that Albus had had to drink, the potion Albus had refused to allow him to drink instead – the potion that had changed everything. Albus was never the same after that, and his mentality had only weakened and corroded after that.

It was this memory that pulled Harry back to the present, back to reality as it was now. No matter how much he wished for it, he would not get the times of his youth back; he would not get the Albus he knew then back. For a moment, Harry mourned the loss all over again – as acutely as if the wound were brand new.

He shook his head, steeling himself against his emotions, his hurts. Right now was not the time to allow distractions through. Focusing on Dumbledore once again, Harry was met with the saddest gaze he'd ever seen, directed at him, on the old being's face. It was as though he, too, had just taken the same trip down memory lane – and mourned just as much.

"You should be by my side, Harry," Dumbledore said sorrowfully, but earnestly enough that it just added to the younger being's pain.

"I would be," he replied softly, "if you were on my side."

The despondent look was still in Dumbledore's eyes, but his lips twitched into a small smile nonetheless. If anyone could appreciate the subtle distinction, he could.

"Why, Albus?" Harry asked then, his voice quiet and a slight frown gracing his features. He was stalling for time, but he was also genuinely curious as to the answer. "Could you give me that much?"

A shadow passed over Dumbledore's face that Harry couldn't place, and was gone before he could think on it further. It was enough, though, to tell him that whatever the elder being was about to say would be half the truth, at best.

"Isn't it obvious, Harry, my boy?" the ancient asked, stretching his arms out at his sides, gesturing grandly around him. "I am doing this for us, for our kind. I am returning prestige to _our_ world."

But Harry was already shaking his head at this, rejecting the logic.

"Our kind does not need nor want prestige, Dumbledore," he said softly, but firmly and with complete confidence. "All we wish to do is _live_ – and you, with this scheme, are greatly diminishing our ability to do so."

"Why can't you understand, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, as though explaining a simple concept to a stubborn student. "I am taking back what is rightfully ours – our power."

"Power has never been an issue for us either," Harry said, his eyes soft, his tone gentle now, as if he were letting down a child still prone to believing in Santa Clause. "What you are about to do will ruin everyone, Dumbledore – not just the humans. Every species, unequivocally, will suffer."

He paused here, hoping his words would have some effect, before he said, "You will damn us all."

"Only the weak will be damned!" exclaimed Dumbledore emphatically, his tone heated, his eyes shining with a wild fire. "The worthy will weather the storm. The strong shall rise up out of the ruins and we shall create a new world – a world free from all the flaws that bring this current one down. And we, the supernatural, shall be at the helm. Can you not see it, Harry? We will build our paradise. Do you not want that?"

"But sometimes," said Harry sadly, gazing at Dumbledore as though finally realizing that he was well and truly lost to them all, "sometimes the cost is just too high, Dumbledore. And sometimes the end does not justify the means. This risk you are so willing to take is not worth it."

The Ancient sighed almost mournfully, as if he were coming to the same realization regarding Harry.

"Why are you trying so hard to protect them, Harry?" he asked beseechingly, eyes bright, like he truly wished to understand. "These… humans? They are no more than cattle to us."

"They are so much more than that, Dumbledore," Harry replied as calmly and evenly as he could, seeing, in that one statement, how very different this being in front of him was to the mentor he remembered. "Neither you nor I – or anyone for that matter – can truthfully claim to be more deserving of life than they are. No one species is more entitled than any other. The very fact of their existence is proof enough that they are worthy."

The younger being paused here, leveling the elder with an intense gaze, attempting to make him see reason.

"You do not get to decide different," he then said firmly. "It is not up to you."

A smile alighted Dumbledore's face at these words, the twinkle of old entering his eyes – though, if Harry were being honest, it looked far more malevolent with his red eyes than it ever did with his blue ones.

"Ah, but I have been given the _means_ to do much about it, my boy," he said with a smug note in his voice. "I have the ability to bring about a magnificent change. After that, it will be up to them to survive it. And if they don't… well, then that will proof enough that they aren't as worthy as you believe them to be."

But Harry was already shaking his head – not in denial or dismissal, but in sheer disbelief. It was as if this being before him was a complete stranger, someone he had never met before. So difficult was it for him to even think of his old teacher in relation to this person.

"You are going against Nature herself, Dumbledore?" he asked dubiously, a light frown on his face. "You were the one who taught me what a grave error in judgment such a thing would be. You taught me that only ill would befall anyone who even attempted such a thing."

A flicker crossed Dumbledore's features at this. It was not one of doubt, but rather it looked as though a much suppressed part of the Ancient Vampire was trying to awaken. Hope clutched desperately at Harry's heart seeing this. Its hold was weak, however, and it dissipated almost instantly when Dumbledore's countenance smoothed out in the next moment.

"A good lesson, indeed," the Vampire said with a solemn nod of his head, not condescending but not conceding, either. "But only reward waits if Nature _agrees_ with you. I got this far, did I not? I think that speaks for itself."

"You are deluding yourself, Dumbledore," Harry said strongly, now more sure of the fact than ever.

"Either way," responded the elder with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "tonight we find out."

And just like that, a realization struck Harry. He had believed he was stalling Dumbledore by keeping him talking long enough, but that was not the case. Now he could see that the older being was merely passing the time, waiting for the exact moment necessary to perform this ritual.

Not letting this get to him too much, Harry changed the subject – there were still important questions he had to ask of this being, questions he needed the answers to regardless of the ultimate outcome of these events.

"What about Edward?" he asked then. His voice was so soft when he spoke, barely a whisper, but this only seemed to emphasize the utter significance of his query.

A certain stillness seeped into the atmosphere, as if the very air would shatter if one wrong move was made. Dumbledore, though, appeared to become incensed. It was not overtly obvious, but the blaze that burst behind his eyes was unmistakable.

"What about him?" the elder asked in return, his tone a near hiss.

"Don't play ignorant, Dumbledore!" Harry said, raising his voice a bit and showing the most emotion since they had arrived. His eyes, too, took on a fiery fierceness. "Why did you take him from me?"

"He was taking you away from me!" Dumbledore spat, his careful composure slipping slightly.

Whatever Harry was expecting to hear, that was not it. So surprised was he that for a moment he could say nothing, his confusion taking over.

"You did not see it," the elder being continued, his gaze taking on a faraway look as he thought of a past long gone. "He had you so blinded, you saw nothing but him. But I could see all too clearly. A rift was forming between us; you were distancing yourself from me. Within a few measly years there was a chasm between us, where before you would never have even considered leaving me behind. You were all the family I had left, Harry – _my_ family. And _he _was snatching that away from me without thought. I had to do something. I had to make sure his influence over you was removed. I did it for you as much as for me, my boy."

Throughout the entire speech all Harry could do was gape. Is that truly how Dumbledore had seen things? Did he honestly believe that Edward was to blame for that distance? And there had been a detachment from Dumbledore – Harry remembered it clearly. But he had had to separate himself from his mentor; he did not have any idea how else to deal with the changes in him – profound changes that turned him into someone, something else. It had all stemmed from the breakdown of Dumbledore's mentality, the deterioration of his mind, and had had nothing to do with his Chosen. Clearly Dumbledore had a different view of things.

"It wasn't Edward," Harry whispered finally, his voice a little unsteady. He looked up, directly into the Ancient's unfathomable eyes – pain, anger and grief swirling in his own. "It was you. You were the reason we were falling apart. And it was me. I have an equal share of that blame. But that gave you no right to do what you did. There is no justification for that."

Sometime during Harry's response, Dumbledore's gaze had shuttered and he had closed himself off once more. The young Daemon knew then that there was no way to get him back – Albus was gone forever and only this imitation remained.

"Well," said Dumbledore, his tone sickeningly jovial once more, "it was rather a fruitless effort in any case – clearly."

His stare moved over to Edward then, the baseless hate and fury ever present. The Cullen heir paid him no mind, though, as he kept his focus on Harry, making sure that he was okay. Harry gave him a small smile and an almost imperceptible nod, then turned back to face the Ancient.

"Clearly," the raven-haired being agreed, keeping his tone light but his meaning plain: nothing and no one was going to come between him and his Chosen again.

Dumbledore hummed, but said nothing. He gestured behind him slightly, giving Zabini the cue he had been waiting for. Harry tensed, but did not act on it – with Angela's life in the balance, they could not afford to have any mishaps.

As it was, the necromancer simply glided to the front of the group, seeming to float instead of walk, and moved closer to where Angela lay. Jessica twitched involuntarily, as if she wanted to rush forward again and protect her best friend from the threat, but she reined herself in and kept her position.

Zabini raised his right arm and pointed his palm towards the ground to the front of him. Then, as he began to chant in some strange and forgotten language, he turned in a slow circle. As they all watched, a large ring formed in the ground – it was like an invisible force was physically carving a circle in the floor. The ring was quite sizeable, demarcating the center of the cavern, and ensuring that both Zabini and Angela were within it. The necromancer then went on to carve runic symbols into the ground, just inside of the circle, all the way around. All they could do was watch, so captivating, so powerful, was the magic in the air – it was hypnotic.

When he turned to Angela, however, Harry stiffened again – ready to spring at a split-second's notice. All Zabini did, though, was wave a hand over her still form, almost carelessly, and the teenaged girl began to stir.

Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted in a weak moan, more of discomfort than actual pain. When her eyes finally opened, they had a glassy sheen to them – unfocussed and not quite fully conscious. Before she could completely comprehend her situation, she rose – but not of her own accord. As though hooked on puppet strings, Angela's torso lifted off the floor first. Her head and arms hung limply for a moment, and then she was sitting up and all the more disoriented for it. Not long after that, she was lifted again, her legs not even bending to accommodate the movement, and in seconds she was standing, swaying slightly.

It was only then that the present truly began to sink in for the girl. Her gaze darted from side to side as she took in her surroundings; her body began to stiffen in realization; and she started to shiver almost violently – from the cold, from what had been done to her during her imprisonment, but most of all from apprehension. She seemed to have some knowledge, at least, of why she had been abducted.

"Calm, Angela," Harry said softly, but enough for the girl to hear him, when he saw that she was on her way to hyperventilating.

Angela's eyes snapped to him instantly, holding his gaze like it was her lifeline. He supposed, in this moment, it really was. But then her attention shifted. Her eyes flicked just to the right of Harry, to where, he noted, Mike was standing. She focused on him and he stared back horror-struck, and a certain comprehension flashed behind her gaze.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was caught in a coughing fit. Harry surmised that she had not used her voice much – except to scream, he thought with an internal grimace of regret. Once this subsided, and she steadied herself enough, she tried again.

"Is – is it true?" she asked, her voice still no more than a scratchy whisper, but her stare unwavering.

For a time, Mike did not respond, or could not. He simply looked back at Angela with sadness and shame intermingled.

"Is it true?" she asked again, a little louder, a little stronger, when it became clear that a response was not forthcoming. "Are you… are you the mole?"

Mike opened his mouth to answer, but then simply turned away, disgraced, seemingly no longer able to hold his friend's gaze. This appeared to be enough of a confirmation for Angela, however. Her eyes shuttered, even as they glossed over with tears, and she turned away from Mike, unable to look at him either. Gasps could be heard from behind Harry; the Stanleys, Webers and Cullens had not been made aware of the discovery in time, after all. Other than that, no one reacted too strongly; they could not allow their focus to shift from their mission to rescue Angela. They would deal with this new information once they'd seen that through.

"You see, dearest Angela," Dumbledore said then, for all the world looking like the epitome of the grandfatherly figure. "It is as I told you: I have no reason to lie."

The only reactions Angela showed in response were the tightening of her jaw and the closing of her eyes, but only for the briefest of moments.

"Considering all you now know," Dumbledore continued, paying no heed to the lack of reaction, "would it not be better to simply accept your place in the grand scheme of things? Would it not be better to aid me? What is there, really, to fight for?"

Harry watched Angela closely here. He needed to know, more conclusively, the amount of damage Dumbledore had managed to inflict on the teenager – mentally and emotionally.

For one scary instant, Angela seemed to honestly consider the questions posed to her. But then her gaze flicked to her parents (who watched their daughter with barely concealed heartache and fury, Diane – normally a pillar of strength – with tears streaming down her face), and then to Jessica, her closest confidant, one of her strongest supporters (who had love and pride in Angela shining most brightly in her eyes).

"Enough," answered Angela simply, strength in every syllable.

Harry felt as though he could have broken down, right then, in sobs of relief as his respect for Angela grew exponentially. Dumbledore had not broken her; Angela still retained her immense spirit – which may well be more potent now due to her recent experiences, instead of less.

Dumbledore heaved a put upon sigh, as though dealing with a petulant child who would not see reason.

"And yet that changes nothing, really," he said, almost gently. He then faced the necromancer before continuing. "Lord Zabini, if you please. This is an exciting, auspicious time or us – I would be most displeased if we were to miss this opportunity."

Zabini gave a single nod of acknowledgement and began to chant once more. Waving his hand in a wide arc above his head, the necromancer seemed to make the very roof above them disappear. In truth, Harry knew, this was more of a one-way screen – they could now see up and out of the chamber they were in, but no one outside could see into it. Zabini did, however, let one thing from the outside in – the light of the full moon, which was necessary for the ritual they wished to perform.

The moonbeams cast light directly onto the middle of the room, onto the very center of the circle occupied by Angela and Zabini. They seemed to be magically enhanced, though, as everyone present could practically see sparkles in the air due to the moon's shine. In that moment, with a halo of light surrounding her and dressed as she was, Angela looked like the very embodiment of an angel – heartbreakingly beautiful, the physical manifestation of her inner soul. Harry could not even think of her being lost to them all.

Zabini, meanwhile, spent a moment studying the night sky and the moon's light before he spoke.

"We may begin," was all he said, his voice a deep baritone that was at once soothing and strengthening, striking a chord within them all.

A sharp intake of breath came from someone among Harry's group; Angela began to shake visibly again. Before he could do or say anything, however, Zabini began the rite's chant, magic infused the circle so that it virtually shimmered in a rainbow of colors, and he knew that Angela could no longer escape the circle. Such was the nature of the ritual – nothing could leave the circle once it had formally begun. Conveying this to those around him, Harry instructed them to bide their time. While nothing could leave the circle, once the magic settled, in the seconds directly before the sacrifice was actually made, entering the circle from the outside would be possible. The window was small, to be sure – minute in fact – but it was something and that was all they could hope for. They simply had to not waste their chance as it would be the only one they'd receive.

And so they watched. In bated breath, they all waited – none knowing what they would do, exactly, but knowing something had to be done. The ritual was not flashy, beyond the ethereal light glowing around them. Angela stood, as though rooted to the spot, dead center and Zabini merely spoke reverently in that same strange language, eyes closed and arms spread out to his sides, palms up. Yet everyone, Dumbledore and his crew included, stood frozen, mesmerized, their gazes riveted.

When Harry heard the cadence of Zabini's tone shift, ever so slightly but still there, he tensed to spring. His timing proved correct when, in a motion so swift that they'd have missed it if they blinked, the necromancer drew a long knife made entirely of iron. It was a simple instrument, but the power radiating off of it spoke different, as did the symbols carved into it.

Zabini raised the hand holding the blade, making the light glint off it in a most sinister way, but he was still chanting.

Any second now, thought Harry as he fell into a crouch – and that's when it all fell apart. The events that followed happened so quickly that there might have been little hope of remembering everything accurately.

Harry would distinctly recall seeing Zabini's eyes open, and having a solid shining silver color when they did. It was in that instant that he decided to leap forward, to get to Angela. Before he could, though, another body sprinted past him with single-minded intent, just as the necromancer swung the knife down. In the next second, Angela was pushed roughly to the ground, out of the way - saved.

And, as she hit the floor, Zabini's knife plunged into the heart of Mike Newton.

For a few seconds that seemed to stretch on for eternity, not a sound was made. No one spoke, no one moved, and it was as if the moment was suspended in time. Then, just before Zabini violently ripped the blade back out of his chest, there was just enough time for a single whispered utterance from Mike.

"Forgive me."

Blood sprayed from the wound as the knife was removed, splattering Mike, Zabini and the circle, and Mike fell to the floor. His hands clutched weakly at his chest, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide with shock and pain, as he bled out quickly. No time could be spared to even register the death, let alone react to it, however.

In the very instant that the blood hit the ground, or the runic symbols etched into the circle, to be more exact, the magic picked up once again – and in full force. The ritual was still in progress, after all, and the sacrifice had taken hold.

A powerful wind, not unlike that of a storm, began blowing through the cavern with no mercy, whipping hair and clothes this way and that. It took all the strength in them simply to remain standing, to not be swept to the ground or into the walls by the unyielding gust. As it was, they had to hold on to each for support.

As quickly as it started, though, the wind abated and the howl diminished to nothing. The rite was at its close and, disoriented though they all were, they swiftly attempted to steady themselves and recover their bearings. They had to see what had transpired from the sacrifice, from Mike's death.

Just inside the circle, in between Zabini and Mike's body, a swirling, glowing white mist could be seen stretching from the floor to the ceiling, which was back to its original rocky state. It twirled and drifted as though trapped within an invisible cylinder, not moving over to anywhere else in the chamber.

While everyone else stood and stared, Harry saw his chance and rushed forward, taking advantage of the distraction.

He snatched the knife out of Zabini's hand and made his way quickly over to the light mist. He did not know who Dumbledore had decided to bring back from beyond the grave, but it did not matter. Only one clear thought shone in his mind: whoever it was, whatever it was, it had to stay dead. Before the Ancient could use the Inferius to accomplish his plan of opening the Core, Harry would destroy it. He had to end this.

But as he raised his arm up to stab the zombie-like creature, before he could actually make the killing blow, the mist dissipated and he was left with a clear view of the Inferius. His grip slackened immediately and the knife in his hand fell, clattering noisily at it hit the ground. His mouth fell open and, for a moment, all he could do was stare, wide-eyed, in absolute shock… and yearning.

"M-mother?"

**/A\**

**Author's Note:** **PLEASE READ – this is an important AN.** This is important because it regards what you, as the readers, want to read next from me. 'Advent' is drawing to a close – only one or two chapters left. However, even before I started this story, I had planned to do both a prequel and a sequel. This is where you guys come in: **would you prefer to read the prequel first, or the sequel**? The prequel deals with the relationship between Harry and Edward – how they met, how they got together, their love story, basically. So this would predominantly be a romance fic. The sequel will be more action/adventure/drama, as it would deal with the events directly following the events of 'Advent'. I'm not going to say too much, as it would give away a lot and spoil the fic. So, from now until the end of 'Advent' I will be giving you the opportunity to **vote for what you want to read**. Prequel or Sequel? You can either do this by leaving me a review with your vote, or by going to my profile page to vote using the poll I've set up. Or both, if that's what you want :) I will take every vote into account and it's completely up to you – because I won't mind writing either and both will, in time, be written. This is so I know which you would like to read first.

That said, I would love to know what you thought. Thank you all :)


	13. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own **Harry Potter** or **Twilight** – they belong to J. K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer, respectively. Also, within this story I make use of a few small ideas from **Supernatural**, **Vampire Diaries**, **Anita Blake** and **Buffy the Vampire Slayer** – the credit for which goes to Erik Kripke (& Co.), L. J. Smith, Laurell K. Hamilton and Joss Whedon (& Co.), respectively. **No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: **AU, Slash and Het pairings will feature in this story, but the main pairing will be Slash (that being Edward and Harry). For now there will be nothing graphic, but that might change later.

**Author's Note: **Oh my word! Over ten months since my last update – I am so VERY SORRY! I can give you guys a whole bunch of reasons for this – real life… assignments and exams… work – and while this is all true, I have to say that it all comes down to one huge factor: this chapter kicked my ass! And then again. And again. I had so much trouble with it that it stopped being funny ages ago. But it is finally here! And I'm not sure that I'm happy with it, but I've overthought it enough.

This chapter is dedicated to **Kyuubi323** – I don't think I have ever been so complimented before, and definitely not for my writing. Thank you so very much for your shout out and seriously awesome review!

Thank you all for continuing to read this story :) Hope you enjoy…

**/A\**

_When you're dreaming with a broken heart_

_The waking up is the hardest part_

_You roll outta bed and down on your knees_

_And for a moment you can hardly breathe_

_Wondering was she really here?_

_Is she standing in my room?_

_No, she's not_

'_Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone…_

_When you're dreaming with a broken heart_

_The giving up is the hardest part_

_She takes you in with her crying eyes_

_Then all at once you have to say goodbye_

_Wondering could you stay, my love?_

_Will you wake up by my side?_

_No, she can't_

'_Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone…_

»John Mayer – When You're Dreaming with a Broken Heart«

**/A\**

Chapter Twelve:

The bedroom was vast and very opulent. Everything, from the thick velvet curtains to the gentle gossamer drapes of the four-poster bed, spoke of richness and complete comfort. The use of only light colors – white and soft blues – contrasted wonderfully with the dark woods that the furniture was made from and would have, at any other time in the past, given one the feeling of beautiful tranquility.

_What a morbid contrast_, though Lady Ayur sadly, for nothing could mask the scent of sickness that covered the room presently. The oppression of death was undeniable. The High Elf, one of the three leaders of the Supernatural world, and one of the oldest and most powerful beings in existence, could not help but feel utterly useless in that moment. Her companion, she could tell, felt just the same.

Though stoic as always, as he stood vigilant by the bed, Lady Ayur could easily see the weight of this feeling of inadequacy pressing down on Lord Veda. Ever the warrior, however, he bore this burden with a dignity so hard to come by of late. While he may appear, to an outsider, as unfeeling, as cold, Ayur knew different. It was in his eyes, always the eyes, the tenderness and utmost care he had for those close to him, those he loved. This shone through like fire now.

"How is she?" the quiet voice of Lord Sama asked as he walked into the room.

"The deterioration is constant now," Lord Veda replied – the first words he has spoken in a long while.

"It won't be much longer," supplied Lady Ayur, bowing her head at the truth of her statement.

"I… am h-here… you know?"

The heartbreakingly fragile voice came from the occupant of the bed. She stirred slightly under her silken sheets, but made no effort to sit up. Indeed, at this time, she probably did not have strength for such a task.

"My Lady Lovegood!" Lord Veda exclaimed as they all rushed forward, wanting to aid their friend, but not daring to touch for fear of causing more harm. "Please – you must be still. You are not –"

"I am… well a-ware, M-my Lord," interrupted the one called Lady Lovegood feebly, attempting a smile, but not quite making it. "Before I g-go –"

A painful cough took the elderly woman over, interrupting what she wished to say; her body shook almost uncontrollably for a few minutes, though they seemed to be the longest minutes in history for those having to witness it.

"S-s-sorry…" she stammered once she had recovered enough to speak again, though the agony was still apparent in her voice.

"You have nothing to apologize for, dear one," Ayur whispered, fighting hard against the onslaught of her emotions. Being an Elf, and an Elder at that, she was highly sensitive to the ambiance of any place. Coupled with her own sadness for her friend, she was very nearly overwhelmed.

"M-must… must tell… you," Lady Lovegood continued, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with that statement. "The time… the t-time is c-come."

All three Elders eyes hardened at this. None of them showed any surprise, however; they have been preparing for this confirmation ever since their meeting with Lord Potter.

Though not one of them made the young Daemon aware of this at the time, they did not doubt him in the slightest. The amount of good that he has achieved in his relatively few years on earth, the unbelievable amount of compassion for all life that he holds, went a long way in ensuring that he would never be ignored by them. It also guaranteed him their affections. Truly, the young green-eyed being did not fully comprehend the affect he had on those around him. And despite the circumstances, at least now they were assured they would be seeing him again.

The elderly Lovegood pulled in a deep, raggedy breath, but her wise eyes shone with pride.

"I see… you have expect-ted this," she whispered, her voice fading fast. "G-good… good. I must… must leave y-you… now."

"A better world than this awaits you, loved one," stated the strong but soothing voice of Lord Veda.

"Indeed, My Lady," asserted Lord Sama, eyes and tone full of love, "one that surely deserves you."

Lady Ayur stepped forward, the Lords making way for her. Too overcome to be able to speak her thoughts, the High Elf gathered her closest friend into her arms and simply held her. She tried to convey in this last hug all the love she had for the Lady Lovegood, all the trust and faith, and how very much she would be missed. They stayed this way right up until they all felt their friend depart, until her life was truly no more.

Very gently, as though handling the most fragile crystal, Lady Ayur lay her confidant back down. Getting of the bed, each of the three Triad members did their part, tucking the white sheet tightly around the rapidly cooling body, covering even her head. They then all stood around the bed, heads bowed in respect, and said the customary words of the final goodbye in a tongue long forgotten.

"Be well on your journey; you have blessed us with your light."

As one they turned and left the chambers, not looking back but ever forward as they must. The Reapers would take over from here, seeing to the preparations of the body before the burning, which would occur the next day.

They entered Lord Veda's study by unspoken agreement and arranged themselves with practiced ease. The Vampire Lord walked over to the window, which took up the entire wall to one side, looking across their vast lands now bathed in soft light and wondrous colors from the sunset, but seeing nothing. Ayur and Sama placed themselves in a soft velvet covered couch each, placed directly before the raging fireplace. After the chill of the room they had just left, they needed the warmth – superficial though it felt right then.

None spoke for what seemed quite a time, each too lost in their own thoughts, their own memories. It seemed wrong to them, somehow, to discuss and tend to the matters at hand – too formal and business-like – having just lost a dear and very well-loved friend. But such was the nature of the mantle they had undertaken. They were the leaders of an entire world, of all supernatural-kind; they could not afford to waste time when even time was no longer guaranteed for the very beings they took care of. And so they forced themselves to move on – hopefully they would find some moments to mourn later.

"Not long now, before the new Oracle awakens."

It was Lord Sama that broke the silence, though he spoke softly, reluctantly, enough.

"She must be protected – now more than ever," replied Lord Veda, emotion still thick in his voice, but it never wavered. "A great advantage it is, that we will not have to spare any time to search for her."

"Yes, Oracle Lovegood has given us a boon, indeed, in scrying for the new generation," agreed Lady Ayur, though her tone was tinged with sadness. "Even though it cost her much of her remaining time, she has gifted us with the accuracy in this endeavor we could only have hoped for."

"So, we head for Forks," stated Lord Sama decisively, meeting each of his companions gazes.

"We head for Forks," they agreed.

**A…A**

Never before had any Quileute pack, past and present, faced a threat such as this. And to think that the hostility came, not from their sworn enemy, but from their kinfolk! Before this battle, they wouldn't have ever believed such a thing possible – let alone that it would actually occur. Yet, here they were. The battle raged around him and Jacob exerted as much willpower as he could, not prepared to give in to despair.

Not long previously, when it became evident that the Quileute pack, by themselves, would not manage to defeat the opposition, the Council of Forks, Hermione, as well as the Cullens that had remained joined in the fray, helping wherever and as much as they could.

The ascension of the full moon had also aided them, somewhat. Greyback and his pack had become preoccupied as the full moon forced them to transform. Taking advantage of this, Jake and the rest attempted to even the numbers out. But while they had managed to take out quite a few of the hostile wolves – getting rid of about a third of the other pack – they were still outnumbered, two to one.

While Jacob fought hard, with a determination and strength not found in many, he also spared a moment to check on the rest of his pack, find out how they were faring.

Leah was fighting alongside her brother and her mate, Hermione (it had taken them all some time to wrap their minds around that bit of news). They were facing off against two werewolves between the three of them, but it was still quite an even match so far. Sam and Paul were both taking on two werewolves each, and were fighting valiantly despite the hits they were taking. Every other member of his pack was teaming up in two's and three's to better ward of their opponents. Jacob himself was currently jumping from fight to fight, attempting to minimize the damage as much as he could, wherever he could.

One of the greatest worries for them was making sure that none of them sustained any bites from the werewolves – they had no idea how the lycanthropy virus would affect them and did not wish to risk it. Another source of concern, this time more for Jacob than any other pack member, was ensuring Bella's safety throughout. Of all present, she was the least trained, the least prepared to handle such a battle, and yet one of the most important people to him, personally. She was aware enough of her shaky abilities to not join in the fight, but the fact that she was staying out of the way was causing her to be rather conspicuous – especially to their adversaries, who were searching for any weakness to exploit.

It seemed that this realization hit both the Alphas – Jacob and Fenrir Greyback – at the same time. In fact, not a moment after Jake had had the thought, he whipped around instinctively to face his opponent, just in time to see the rogue werewolf rushing eagerly towards the gazebo – towards Bella.

_No_.

His mind stopped as his heart sped up, while everything around him now seemed to be moving in slow motion with the sound muted – as if he was underwater. The fights surrounding him continued, and doubtless grew more desperate, without pause; none were aware of the deep terror that suddenly had a hold of Jacob; none were any wiser to the absolute shift of the Quileute Alpha's focus.

And suddenly, not a split second later, it was as though a switch was flipped. Time seemed to speed up, the sound became almost too loud, and Jacob moved. He leapt forward, running for all he was worth – he could not allow this monster to reach Bella, not under any circumstances, not if he could help it.

About halfway to Bella, Jake intercepted Greyback. With a powerful tackle to the werewolf's midsection, the Quileute Alpha and the werewolf Alpha went sprawling to the ground. They both recovered quickly enough, however, and were immediately locked in a fierce brawl. Jacob could swear the psychotic lycanthrope was smug about this – the feelings of arrogance and relish were practically rolling off of him in waves. If anything, this only served to fuel the Quileute's fury.

Jake and Greyback rolled a short distance, scrabbling with each other as they did, before they came to a stop. Both were back on their feet within seconds, snapping and snarling at each other. While the only emotions visible in Jacob's eyes were intense fury and determination; in Greyback's there was also disturbing glee. Not only did the insane werewolf get unreasonable amounts of joy from hurting others, from killing, he had now also found out the Quileute Alpha's Achilles heel.

Jake surged forward, not wanting or needing the lycanthrope to make the first move. He simply wanted to end this, desperate not to allow Greyback access to Bella.

He lunged for Greyback's throat, thinking if he could get a good enough hold he might do some serious damage. The werewolf, however, was not a stranger to fighting and ducked out of reach easily. The Quileute was not deterred, though, and swiped instead, catching Greyback in the face, leaving three deep gashes in his cheek.

A loud and vicious growl tore out of the werewolf's throat and a hellish fire lit up in his eyes. This was the turning point – for up until this moment, Jacob knew, Greyback had only been toying with him, not taking him or the fight seriously. Now he wanted blood, Jake's blood.

From then on Greyback became positively ferocious and, coupled with his natural affinity for cruelty, this turned him into a true monster. He held nothing back and fought as dirty as was possible. He swiped, bit, clawed at Jake with no hesitation, never letting up even for a second. For all the training Jacob and his pack have been doing recently, they had never faced an enemy such as this. Too soon Jake seemed to be tiring, his breath coming in short pants and his heart beating faster than it ever had. Fear was starting to take hold of the Quileute Alpha in a way he could not remember experiencing.

For the first time since becoming a shifter, Jake actually felt he might lose, but, worse yet, that he may let everyone he cared about and loved down. This caused the trepidation to rise to new levels, so much so that he began to lose his concentration. The hits kept on coming, but now Jake was taking more than he thought his body could handle. Bones that had been knitting themselves back together were now being broken anew, before they could heal fully. Cuts were remaining open, causing an alarming amount of blood loss.

And try as he might, Jacob could not call upon the power that had elevated him the day he had chased off the Lycans that had attacked his pack, his family. No matter what he did, no matter what he thought or how hard he concentrated, that absolute authority seemed lost to him now.

Were Harry and Hermione wrong in believing him the ultimate Alpha? It really did seem that way now, and this caused an even greater despair and resentment in Jake. What was the purpose in such great power if he could not wield it to help his family, to save his loved ones? Why was it deserting him now, of all times, when he had the utmost need of it?

Hopelessness took hold of the Quileute Alpha and seemed to control him fully. Never had he felt so useless, so pathetic.

Greyback, it seemed, sensed these feelings in Jacob immediately and relished them thoroughly. Coming at Jake at a run, he head-butted him full in the chest, cracking at least one more rib in the process and sending Jake sprawling to the ground. A fleeting thought struck the Quileute then – that he could just stay down, admit defeat, and let it all fall as it must. For that single moment, the idea was so potently appealing, and brought such great relief to the shifter Alpha, that he truly did think he'd simply lay there. But then he heard her.

Bella.

She was calling out his name, crying out in the most heart-wrenching anguish. Cutting as it was to hear such pain from his beloved, it was exactly what Jacob needed to get his head right. This was his reminder that, for all the bleakness of the situation, there was always something worth fighting for, worth living for. How could he even think of putting Bella through such a loss? He had fought so long and so hard just to have her be a part of his life – was he really going to let her go so easily? Had he not vowed to always be there for her, to always fight for her, regardless of the type of monster he faced? And now it wasn't even the fiend that was defeating him, but his own thoughts, his own actions. He could not tolerate that.

With an energy he thought had deserted him, Jacob pushed himself back onto his feet, willing his body to heal faster than it was. He staggered for a single step, but then faced the werewolf fully, with rage and determination renewed. He used this as his armor. Greyback seemed to be thrown by this, surprised that the shifter would still face him, let alone with such resilience, such strength.

The Alpha werewolf's eyes flicked about him for a second, as though taking stock of his pack, of any back-up he might have. There was no one to turn to, though. Every other werewolf, and every shifter, was still currently engaged in their own fights.

Greyback took a single step forward, as if he were testing the waters. Jake stood his ground watching his opponent warily, but without the panic that had gripped him not long before. The werewolf paused, sensing the shift in the Quileute's demeanor. Using this hesitation to his advantage, Jake shot forward, jumping onto Greyback and biting him swiftly on his shoulder.

The werewolf yelped, more in surprise than pain, as they both went down once again. After wrestling for a short while, Greyback managed to roll out of Jake's hold and gain his feet. Looking around him shiftily once more, the werewolf lunged suddenly at the Quileute Alpha.

Jake was ready for him, having been watching him carefully, and let him come. At the last second, however, Greyback moved to the side, ducking around Jacob instead of crashing into him, as was expected. Confused at first, Jake could only turn and stare, presuming that Greyback would be right behind him, making another move. He wasn't, though, and Jacob felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest, frozen stiff.

The werewolf was already far ahead and making steady ground – straight towards his Bella.

Jacob ran after him almost immediately, but he was too far behind. The second it took to realize what Greyback was after was a second too long. Bella screamed, having no time, and indeed being too terrified, to do anything else. She seemed paralyzed by her fear.

Greyback readied himself to jump at her and all Jake could do was roar in frustration, in dread, knowing he'd never make it in time to save Bella from the attack.

Just then, Charlie appeared. It seemed to Jacob that he was like some mythical savior sent down from the heavens, such was the relief he felt at his Chosen being saved – and then the horror set in. Charlie materialized in front of Bella just as Greyback snapped his jaws closed, taking all of the damage of the assault onto himself.

Chief Swan cried out in pain as both he and Greyback crashed into the gazebo, scattering all the non-fighters who had been standing there, out of the way and in relative safety.

"Dad!" Bella screamed and she was unceremoniously flung aside, but staying focused solely on her father. "No!"

An instant later, Jake was there, slamming into Greyback and forcing him off of Charlie. Not stopping at that, Jacob grappled and pushed and rolled the werewolf as far as he could.

Bella's total torment at seeing her father harmed was ringing in Jacob's ears, reverberating through his heart, and now, finally, something other than blood was thrumming through Jake's veins. His elusive power was coming through at last, offering itself for the shifter Alpha's use – and use it, he did.

Jake could feel the ultimate Alpha's control taking hold of him, almost like an alien entity making use of his body, even though it was doing his bidding. The Quileute did not hinder it in the slightest. It was still foreign to him, yes, but it was going to help him defeat Greyback now, and that was all that mattered.

With that thought, Jacob attacked with apparent abandon, and without conscience. He wanted to hurt, he wanted to kill, and in that moment it felt better than he ever thought it could. The Quileute Alpha did not want to think on that too much, for if he did he would be disturbed by what he found.

Jacob had never been a very vindictive person by nature. He never delighted in causing harm – he wasn't even fully accepting of being a shifter yet! While he would never back down from a fight, or think twice about using violence as a means of defense, killing was not something he took any pleasure in – even when killing Vampires he thought of it in a very detached way, as a task that needed to be completed, a job and not a sport.

Now, though, he felt exhilarated. He did not simply see this as his duty; he _wanted_ this. He wanted Greyback killed, viciously, and he wanted to be the one to do it.

The werewolf, who was merciless but still quite perceptive, seemed to sense the great change in Jacob. He knew that something was irrefutably different, and that whatever it was would not work in his favor. Greyback tried to retreat upon grasping this, but the Quileute teenager was on him too quickly for him to get far.

Immediately, the change in dynamics was made obvious. Jake's hits were now far more accurate, and impossibly more powerful. He attacked with outwardly mindless ferocity, while still managing to keep his wits about him. The speed of the blows coming at the rogue werewolf also increased greatly, making sure that all he could do was defend – pointless though it appeared to be. Greyback realized that this was not normal, that this level of improvement, in so short a time, should not be attainable.

He could not contemplate that just then, however. His main focus was to get away. Retreating now would mean being able to fight again another day; staying would only mean death. A powerful kick to the werewolf Alpha's midsection caused him to not only become winded, but to fly through the air and into one of the many tree trunks surrounding them. He fell to the ground with a dull thud. Before he could get himself back on his feet, however, something happened.

Greyback suddenly froze up before convulsing, first slightly and then more violently. Jacob immediately understood what was happening. While this was the first time that the Quileute noticed the receding of the night, he was able to easily comprehend that the werewolf was now changing back. The time of the full moon was passed. This was it – the perfect moment for Jake to make his kill. And yet…

The moment of hesitation on Jacob's part was all that was needed, for before he knew it a man lay where once there was a werewolf. It was then that the Quileute Alpha realized something profound. A great, great difference existed between killing a ravaging monster and killing a human being – even if they were one and the same.

Fenrir Greyback by no means looked innocent as a person. He was quite tall, taller perhaps than even Jake himself. He had a feral look about him even now – as though he would truly think nothing of committing mass murder still. In fact, in spite of the change, he seemed an animal, a beast, now as he did before. But that did nothing to convince Jacob to end him. He doubted he could do it. He couldn't murder a human in cold blood, however strongly his instincts were yelling at him that he must.

But a being like Greyback could not be allowed to exist. He would never stop killing, never stop causing mayhem and shedding the blood of the innocent. He had to be destroyed.

Just as Jake decided what had to be done, though, the enemy Alpha was already on his feet. The Quileute readied himself for attack, but noted that Greyback still seemed far too weak to attempt anything. Before Jacob could take advantage of this, though, the werewolf gave him as much of a scowl as he could manage (which wasn't all that much, really), and turned on the spot. Jake would have found this to be very odd, but shock overtook him in the next instant.

Fenrir Greyback was gone!

A small pop sound, that was the only warning Jacob had received, and a split second later the werewolf simply vanished into thin air. Jake spun around frantically, fearing some sort of trickery, some illusion. He was very much alone now, though, and with no idea how that could have happened. He would have thought on this a bit more, but now was not the time. The situation he'd left behind to fight Greyback crashed, quite forcefully, back to the forefront of his mind.

Charlie… The Chief was bitten!

Rushing back to the open field, and the gazebo where Charlie was, Jake was met with the most surreal sight. Every last member of the werewolf pack, except for their dead, was gone. Judging by the looks on the faces of everyone still on the field, something similar (if not the same thing) to what Greyback just did must have occurred. None of the fighters on their side, that he could see, seemed too terribly injured, though. Those that were would have probably already been treated by Dr Cullen. In any event, Jacob did not pause for too long before heading straight to the sheltered structure of the clearing.

Before he could utter a word, Bella was in his arms and holding on to him like a lifeline. She was strangely quiet, though; he couldn't hear her crying and there wasn't even the telltale shaking of the body that came with silent sobs.

"Bella?" the Quileute asked, confusion lacing his tone.

When no answer was forthcoming from the brunette, Dr Cullen stepped forward with his own father, Billy, right beside him.

"I believe she is currently in shock, Jacob," he said gently, looking slightly ragged for someone who didn't get tired at all.

It was then that Jake looked past him and into the gazebo itself. He supposed anyone would look worn out after fighting to keep so many people alive – in the combat sense as well as medically.

The Alpha felt his throat closing up as the thoughts he'd been deliberately avoiding came back to him. He swallowed with difficulty, though, and asked the question he dreaded so much.

"D-did we… How many did we… lose?"

For they had to have lost at least some people; the werewolves were far too vicious, and the attack so spontaneous, that it would be a miracle if they'd come out of the battle with just injuries.

Instantly, a look of deep sadness took over Carlisle's face, and there was nothing his dad could do to hide the sorrow in his eyes. Neither averted their gaze, however.

"I'm so sorry, son," his father said, his voice thick with remorse. "The youngest could not manage the assault; they had not even finished their training yet. Collin and Brady were lost and… and Seth, he…"

His dad could not seem to get out the sentence, his voice cracking badly.

"Seth… what, dad?" he asked urgently, refusing to believe that his little shadow could be gone. It wasn't possible, definitely wasn't true.

"He's not dead, Jacob," assured Dr Cullen, coming to his father's aid, but his tone wasn't really comforting Jake any. It was too heavy with uncertainty, with unhappiness.

"But something's happened, right?" the teenager asked through gritted teeth. "Something bad."

"Seth was bitten, Jake," his father answered gravely, his eyes brighter than usual.

"And what does that mean?" asked the tall teen, his muscles tight with the effort of restraining his reaction.

"We cannot say," admitted Dr. Cullen sorrowfully. "We managed to get a large amount of the venom out of his system, but quite a bit had already seeped into his blood stream. We shall do all we can as far as research goes, but I have never come across a natural shifter who has been infected with lycanthropy. I do not know how this would affect Seth. He's resting for now."

Jacob swallowed hard and tightened his hold on Bella. If he wasn't holding her just then, he would have broken something by now – a lot of things, in fact.

"What about Chief Swan?" he asked instead, knowing that this required as much attention, but not knowing how much more he could take.

Bella tensed in his arms, a choking sob escaping her, but she said nothing.

"The infection spread a lot more quickly in Charlie," replied the doctor, and the Alpha could almost feel what was coming next. "I'm afraid, at the next full moon, Chief Swan will transform – he is now a werewolf."

**A…A**

No one can bring back the dead.

No matter how much power one had, no matter how much magic was used, or how many sacrifices were made, not anyone from any species could truly bring back the dead.

Hadn't he had to learn that the hard way, when he'd woken up realizing that he had lost almost everyone he had ever cared for, all those years ago? When he had understood that there would be no more chess with Ron, no more support from Neville, no more family?

Hadn't he had to teach Angela that very same lesson when she had lost her grandmother, her mentor and closest confidant? When she had been so crazed with grief that she would have done anything, at any expense, had he not had to painfully cause her to realize that her Nan was never coming back?

And hadn't he, so very recently, had to impress upon Jessica the dire consequences of even attempting such a thing, when she had had to kill her own friend? When she had had to look him in the eyes and coldly pull the trigger, knowing that it would save him, but at the expense of her own conscience?

Yet here Harry was, faced with one of his deepest, most long-lasting wishes – to have his mother be real and truly with him – and he was having the greatest difficulty remembering why holding on to her would be a mistake. For how could it be?

This was his _mother_! The woman who had given birth to him despite the impossibility of such a thing; the woman who loved him so very much that she had given her own life in order to preserve his. How could keeping her here, in actuality, be a mistake? Was it so wrong of him to want to? And he _wanted_ to, so badly it physically hurt him. He did the only thing he could think of to ease the pain – he took a step forward.

With every step he took, the closer it brought him to his mother and the less the ache in him became. This must mean that he was doing the right thing then… right? But if that were true, why was it that the reduction of his pain did nothing to make him feel better, feel whole? In fact, something of a black hole, devoid of all feeling, seemed to be opening up inside of Harry. And the less hurt he felt, the bigger the void got. Something was missing, something vital to him. But what?

"Harry!" a voice suddenly yelled out to him, though it seemed to be very far away. "No, Harry!"

He knew that voice, he was sure of it. His steps faltered and he stopped, overcome with confusion – and fear. Whose voice was that? Who was it that had just pleaded with him so intensely, and with so much apparent need? He felt he should know the answer; why did he not know?

"Harry, darling?" a new voice queried sweetly – one that he could place instantly.

He looked up, his entire vision narrowing down to encompass only the woman before him, his beautiful mother. He was surely a terrible son. How could he have lost focus of her so easily?

"It is quite all right, sweetheart," Lily said sincerely, her eyes sparkling with love and affection (for _him_). "All will be forgiven, my son – all you have to do is come to me. That's it, Harry. Come to your mother."

**A…A**

For a moment, Edward could only watch helplessly as Harry took yet another step to the thing that looked so like his mother (as the Vampire knew from the pictures Harry had conjured up for him). Ironically, the bronze-haired being suddenly thought of how he had always, in the past, wished he could have met Lily Potter – the woman who held so much of his love's respect and adoration, the woman who had loved his Chosen so much she had given her life for him.

_But not like this_, Edward thought fearfully, miserably. _Not like this_.

He was on the verge of calling out to his mate once again, but never got the chance to. A hand, stronger and more unforgiving than he had ever felt, closed around his throat then – and suddenly Edward's face was only inches from Dumbledore's. The anger and hate in the Ancient's eyes were hot enough to scorch.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," the elder Vampire spat, his grip tightening.

He flung his arm out before Edward could think to respond, and the Cullen heir found himself flying through the air before crashing resoundingly into the rock wall of the underground chamber. He saw his siblings move to his aid, but there way was almost immediately blocked off by Jane and Alec, along with the remnants of the Volturi guard. More than help, however, Edward needed Harry to remain safe – and it did not seem as though he would be on his own, the closer he drew to the Inferius.

"Alice!" he yelled out, not even getting up from where he had fallen. "Alice – make sure she doesn't touch him! His skin must not come into contact with that thing's too often!"

Without waiting for a response, he then turned to Jasper. "Kill the Lycans! None must be spared and no blood of theirs must spill into the inner ritual circle."

He was about to turn his attention to his own conflict with Dumbledore, but suddenly found himself sailing through the air once again. The force with which he hit the wall this time was such that a large crater formed in it, stones still crumbling to the floor where they broke off. The power of the impact also managed to dislocate his left shoulder. The pain was minimal, but the fact that he felt it at all was testament to the potency of Dumbledore's attack.

Well, if the Ancient was not going to hold anything back, then Edward certainly would not either. Picking himself up off the ground, resetting his shoulder joint as he did, the only thought running through his mind was to make Dumbledore pay for all he had done – not just to him, but to his Harry especially.

**A…A**

Chaos was not something that Jasper Whitlock (now Hale), as a soldier in two wars, was appreciative of – especially if he could not turn it to his advantage. He particularly was not fond of the disorder that came from not knowing what must be done, his role in any given situation.

As such, he was extremely grateful upon hearing Edward's command – there really was no room for choice – to take out the Lycans. Not only was this a definite action that needed completion, but it also involved what he did best: fighting, with losing not being an option.

Immediately, the once-Major moved to get the task done. Just as quickly, though, he found himself hindered. Jane stood before him – a tiny thing that none would imagine being any kind of threat, but with a smile on her face that could freeze hearts instantaneously. Jasper stilled, waiting for the torture to start; there was no known way to block the little Vampire's power, after all. A fraction of a second later, however, it was Jane shrieking, a sound like metal being ripped apart, and then it was over and her body was tossed aside like a rag doll, about ten feet away from her head. Demetri, it turned out, once Jasper looked up from the body parts, had gotten behind Jane as she stepped in front of the soldier. He had decided to give away his position as traitor to the Volturi by assisting Jasper – not that his role as a spy would matter now. One way or another, the Volturi guard would disband after this night, either dead or running.

Sparing only a moment to nod to the Italian Vampire in thanks, Jasper turned to take on any and all opponents bound to be surrounding him. Only there was no one to take on.

Jasper felt awe that was colored with surprise; he could not explain it. Every member of the Volturi guard, from those that were left, was already engaged with all those who had come here with Harry. The ex-Major was paralyzed for a moment and all he could do was stare – a first for him. Jasper, upon signing up for war, had expected camaraderie between him and the other soldiers. He learned rather quickly the naivety of his ideas. The other soldiers, it had turned out, were not fond of the fact that a 'boy' was so quickly rising in ranks, surpassing the rest of them, and he had become the outcast. And then, of course, as a part of Maria's coven (the Vampire that had turned him), he was tasked with the training and then killing of the newborns, once they'd outlived their usefulness. Needless to say, Jasper had speedily become accustomed to being the perpetual loner.

Alice had changed that, and quite fervently. Not a day went by that the empath wasn't profoundly grateful to her. She had, singlehandedly, pulled him out of a darkness that he had not believed there was any escape from. There would never be a time when Jasper forgot that he owed his little pixie everything. Of course, he had also learned quite fast that one did not say 'no' to tiny Alice.

This, then, made it all the more surprising that even Alice, his ever-lovely soulmate, could not convince him fully that they would one day be part of a family. And then beyond that, with the help of that very family, could not make him feel connected in any significant way – not to the rest of them. For Jasper had retained the feeling of being an outsider, regardless of the obvious, and quite real, family affections and atmosphere. He knew that they all loved him, and he knew that, in spite of his own cynicism, he loved them all in turn. Somehow, this had never been enough to cause the soldier to realize fully that he was a part of something, that he now was not only accepted, but that he belonged.

But now, in this singular moment, Jasper felt his wall break. The wall he had consciously built around himself so that no deep, no unmanageable harm could come to him. This was the wall that had ensured, over the many decades he had roamed the earth, that he could always remain safely separate from everything around him. It guaranteed his ability to remain aloof, in control – even emotionless if need be. And now it was crumbling around him.

For here was concrete proof that he was not alone.

Demetri, who he had not really known for too long, and honestly did not know whether to trust or not until now, was now taking on an enraged Felix – the best fighter the Volturi had. And Jessica had managed to slip those specialized bands, the ones that nullified Vampire strength and speed, on two guards and was battling both so that Angela (who was still much too weak) did not have to be a part of this. Angela's dad, who people tended to overlook due to his calm demeanor, was using his magic to its fullest extent, holding back a group of Vampires that had no special gifts of their own.

He was truly a part of something greater than himself. He always had been, he realized, but now he could see it.

There was Mrs. Stanley and Lady Weber, taking on Chelsea and Heidi, holding them off with a practiced combination of magic and weaponry – knowing, through Jasper's information, that Heidi was probably the better combatant, and that Chelsea was the one causing everyone to be loyal enough to fight so hard, through her special ability to manipulate bonds. And Mr. Stanley, the consummate hunter, even though he had officially decided to give up the job, keeping Alec occupied enough so that he had no time to use his own gift – that of cutting off all the senses of his opponents. Lord Newton, meanwhile, was managing to keep Afton, Chelsea's mate, at bay, making sure he did not get anywhere near any of his allies to pair off.

He could not deny that, even if these people had no special ties to him, they were still _with _him. They had his back. The truth of this was awe inspiring. It also caused him to make the decision, quite easily, to start showing his gratitude to his family more openly than he had done before. They deserved that much, and so much more.

"You all right, son?" Lord Newton asked when he caught enough time for a breather, a small frown of worry on his face.

And Jasper could only respond in complete honesty. "Never better."

The elder Newton could only give a brief nod in return, and then was quickly pulled back into his fight. He did manage to get out one more statement, though.

"Best get to it, then – they don't stand a chance against you, not isolated and weakened as they are."

"Right," said Jasper, suddenly remembering the task set out for him, and chastising himself slightly for losing sight of it in the first place.

He did not spend any additional time on distractions, despite all his profound realizations taking less than a minute. This mattered little, though. Being a Vampire, and one wise to the ways of war at that, the empath knew that the tide could change in seconds, sometimes less.

Before anyone could blink, Jasper was already in front of the set of built-in cages that held the Lycans. They were each imprisoned in a separate jail, probably to stop them from taking each other out. As the blond being was reaching for the cage bars immediately before him, intending to rip them right out of the wall, a voice spoke up.

"It would be far easier, and much quicker, if you were to take me out of this equation, young man."

The voice was soft, and quite feeble from disuse, but Jasper heard it all the same. It came from the stall directly next to the one he was about to break open, and belonged to the man known as Nicolas Flamel – the father of immortality, as Harry had said.

Frail though the man certainly looked (having had no Elixir to replenish himself with for the duration of his imprisonment), there was a hard glint of determination in his eyes – something that spoke greatly of his wealth of courage. Here was a man who was willing to die for a cause he believed in, and purely to simplify their fight.

"It would, yes," responded Jasper seriously, meeting Lord Flamel's gaze directly. "Believe me, none more than I can attest to the sense of such a strategy. But just because something is easy that does not make it right. I cannot, in good conscience, kill you – an innocent – when anther means are available to me."

Respect could now be seen on Nicolas' features, and a smile that made Jasper think that he had passed some test with flying colors.

"Besides," the soldier continued, refocusing on the cage in front of him, "the Lycans would have to be destroyed eventually, anyway. There is no sense in putting it off."

With that, and a nod to the Lord Flamel, Jasper set out to get the job done.

**A…A**

Alice did not truly realize why not allowing the Inferius to touch Harry was of importance; however the urgency of Edward's tone, as well as her complete trust in her brother, spurred her into action. In less than a second she was by Harry's side. She did not touch him, for he seemed to be in some sort of trance. She did not know how he would react to being shocked out of it, or if there would be any negative effects.

The Seer decided that a non-confrontational approach might be best in this situation. For all that this… _woman_ was the enemy – and, from Edward's tone, quite a dangerous one – Harry was caught up enough in her illusion to portray nothing but wistful adoration. If the Cullen were to be challenging right now, she would be seen as the antagonist. She could not afford that.

"Would you introduce me, Harry?" Alice asked softly, but injecting as much of her optimistic self into her tone as she could.

The green-eyed being faltered and something, some form of recognition perhaps, flickered behind his gaze.

"What?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Alice could pick up the confusion in his tone, though – as if he were waking up after a long sleep to surroundings utterly unfamiliar to him.

"To your mom, Harry," answered the small Vampire, making sure to use his name often as this seemed to draw his attention successfully. "Would you not like to introduce me?"

"Oh," said Harry monotonously, but then he seemed to liven a bit, shaking off some the fog surrounding him, but not all. "Oh! Of course! Of course, I want to."

He turned ever-so-slightly to face Alice, but the majority of his focus remained on the thing he believed to be his mother. The Seer did not let this get her down, however. If she could get even this much from Harry, then he was not completely lost.

"Alice," Harry continued, still talking softly, like he was aware this was an illusion and anything louder would shatter it, "I would like you to meet my mother, Lily Potter. Mom, this is Alice Cullen, Ed-Edward's… Edward… Where is Edward?"

The young Daemon was shaking his head now, trying to clear his mind, regain some clarity.

"Harry!" called out the Inferius sharply, slightly losing the tranquil nature she was trying to achieve, no doubt due to her extreme irritation at being interrupted again. It seemed that Inferi had limited hold over their emotions; this probably meant, inferred Alice, that they could snap at the slightest provocation. She hoped the backlash would, at least, be something they could manage.

The cracks now forming in the Inferius' control seemed to manifest physically. Its features began to flicker somehow, like when signal is being lost on a television; Alice did not know what this could possibly mean, if this was some sort of magical interference signifying that this undead thing was gaining more power, or it meant it was weakening. She really hoped it was the latter. Before she could even think further on it, though, the flickering stopped. "Look at me, Harry dear," the thing continued, much calmer now, "only me. Edward is not here. There is only me."

"But why?" cried raven-haired being, sounding almost as though his fight for control was physically hurting him. "Why is Edward not here? I… I came here… I came here _with_ him. I know I did."

"Edward is here, Harry," Alice assured quickly, seeing that the turmoil in his mind was fast becoming panic. "He's here and he's… he's okay."

_For now_, she thought to herself, taking a second to glance in her brother's direction and seeing him attempting to hold his own against Dumbledore. She could not think on that right now, however – if anything were to happen to Harry, Edward would never forgive her. She had to focus.

When she looked back, the flickering of the Inferius' features was back, and more pronounced than before. When the wavering stopped suddenly, Alice had a split second to take note of what she guessed was the true visage of the undead thing. The features of Lily Potter were still visible, but it was as if they were now translucent – it was like the skin was still there, but was almost transparent and one could see right through to the skeleton beneath it. This was probably the oddest, most grotesque thing the Vampire had ever seen.

And then the Inferius let out an inhuman shriek of rage, and all thinking seized.

This was no ordinary scream. This was the type of scream that would stop any being in his or her tracks, disorienting them for at least a moment – that is if the Inferius did not continue screeching. With her Vampiric hearing, though, the feeling that Alice was experiencing then was akin to that of one having one's eardrums blown.

This dazed and distracted her enough that she became quite an easy target to enemy.A hand clamped around Alice's neck with a vice-like grip, which was saying something considering she was a one of the most resilient beings in existence. It was not the tight grasp, though, that caused the Seer to be lost to her surroundings, her present. Some other power, something unheard of to the Vampire and caused by the Inferius, was taking hold of her. Knowing this did nothing, however, for within a fraction of a second the realization was gone, and Alice's mind was locked in unreality.

**A…A**

Puppet… Weapon… Control… Manipulation… There were some things that would never fail in setting off the once renowned temper of Harry James Potter.

And though Harry's head was still foggy, and though it still seemed such an effort to form even the simplest of thoughts, being used, being played was a feeling the young being was so very familiar with that he could pick up on it, sometimes utterly unconsciously.

Harry shook his head, trying to get the mist clouding it to dissipate. He looked around, desperately trying to find some frame of reference, something to ground him in reality so that he did not lose himself completely. But all around him was chaos. Mini battles were being fought in every direction, and the sights were so confused that he would not have been able to say who, if anyone, had the upper hand. The temptation to panic was so very strong just then; how long had he been hypnotized by the thought of his mother alive, that he had failed to notice all this happening around him? How had he managed to miss everything descending into such a level of turmoil? There was no excuse he could possibly give, but some part of Harry was aware that to give into it, to fall into a state of guilt and alarm, would be too damaging to handle.

Yet despite all the violence around him, Harry felt through his magic that he was needed somewhere specific. He latched onto this. Now that he was out of his daze he needed, so very desperately, to help all he could. It was not any of the fights, however, as he might have thought, where aid was required. The pull he was feeling now was not frantic, but far subtler, more dangerous. It was as if the plea for help was a reluctant one.

Turning again, though he had the craven urge to avoid facing this at all costs, the Daemon sought out, and almost immediately found, his mother – or what he had so wanted to believe could be Lily Potter. In a single look, though, that delusion was now firmly shattered. It was as if the green-eyed being had suddenly developed x-ray vision. The skin was still there, he knew, but the skeleton underneath was very visible. Other changes had occurred atop this most warped one, though. The flowing, shiny red locks the Inferius had had, not a minute ago, now hung limp and unhealthy; the white gown it had worn, so striking, was now a tattered, moth-eaten mess; and the beautiful hands of a mother, soft but strong at once, had aged and lengthened unnaturally and were now sporting sharp black claws.

Claws that were wrapped firmly around Alice Cullen's neck.

Before he knew it, the ritual knife leapt back into Harry's hand; his magic had reacted instinctively, aiding him without him having any conscious thought. In a single step, the Lord Potter was directly behind the Inferius. And one swift motion later, he had the knife embedded deeply into her back (he doubted very much he could have gone through with his attack if he were facing it), his magic assisting him in causing fatal damage to its heart and the center of its power. The shriek that followed was incomparable to anything anyone had heard before. Without fail, every single being currently aware in the chamber dropped to their knees, their hands clutching at their ears.

Harry, having dealt with Inferi on a number of previous occasions, was better equipped to control his reaction. This meant that he was able to see the thing's dying moments, and what he saw would stay with him for the rest of life.

The visage of the undead being flickered uncontrollably between its true form, the skeletal image, and the face of his own mother. In that moment, while knowing, academically, how irrational and inaccurate it was, Harry could not stop a single thought from entering his mind: _I just killed my own mother_. He managed to squash the notion down ruthlessly, but he knew that it would never be gone from him – especially not when, in the final seconds of its existence, the Inferius' eyes turned a brilliant, emerald green….

And then it was gone.

With a fiery burst, the Inferius disintegrated in his arms. Alice let out a cry, more of surprise than of pain, and stumbled backwards. The Daemon had no time to focus on her, however, or even to indulge in mourning for the renewed loss of his mother (even though she had never even been there in reality), as he was suddenly flung back and into the ground.

Shaking his head, after it had slammed into the rocky floor, Harry looked up to find an incensed Dumbledore towering over him. The raven-haired being had lost his grip on the knife he had been wielding not a second ago, and now saw that it was the Ancient Vampire's possession. The fight that followed, as the elder being attempted to stab Harry, was brief but intense. Dumbledore was crazed with anger, and thus not as skilled as normal, and Harry… he found he still suffered with the deep reflexive refusal to truly harm Albus.

This put the younger being almost entirely on the defensive. This turned out to be unwise as, before long, one of Dumbledore's slashes caught Harry as he dodged a blow, opening a slit in his side. It was not overly deep, but it was long. It also achieved sufficient distraction for the Daemon, allowing the Ancient to find enough of an opening that, when he next stabbed, the blade sunk into Harry on the same side. Thankfully, it was a relatively harmless shot, as it missed everything vital. It still hurt, though.

Wrenching the blade free, Dumbledore raised the knife to strike again, but was abruptly tackled to the ground a few feet away from Harry. He knew that it was Edward that had come to his aid, but his focus was pulled elsewhere.

Bright light began to crackle around the ritual knife, which was still in the air after the Vampire had lost his grip on it. Dazzling pale blue and purple danced immediately around the blade, and only the blade, like electricity but more intense.

Harry felt his eyes widen and he looked around himself frantically, confirming what he feared. He was inside the ritual circle. The knife was drenched in his blood and the magic had not yet dissipated.

A wordless cry of denial spewed forth from Harry, but there was no time to do anything else. The force of gravity, now amplified by the ritual magic, pulled the knife _into_ the ground, blade first.

A supreme silence overtook the cavern. Every person still there was frozen, focused on where the dagger had just disappeared, knowing instinctually that _something_ was about to happen. It did not take long.

At first, only a slight sound could be heard, like static. It grew gradually louder, until it filled the underground room. A crack of thunder and, unexpectedly, lightning began to shoot out of the ground in every direction. There was a single moment of stillness before all hell broke loose as everyone attempted to protect themselves in some way. This had the positive effect of breaking Harry out of his confused stupor. He had to protect them – never mind that some of these beings were attempting to kill him and those he loved. This unforeseen occurrence seemed to put them all on the same level.

He knew that, with the rite being carried out, there was no way for him to leave the ritual area – not until it was over – but he did manage to cast a powerful _protego_ (the shield charm) around the circle itself. This ensured that no one outside the area was in harm's way. He then cast a smaller one around his person, not particularly liking the idea of being struck by lightning. And then all he could do was wait it out. Attempting to stem unknown magic would only cause undue dangers, he was sure of it.

A single lightning bolt, brighter than the rest, shot directly up the center of the cavern. It hit the roof of the chamber before shooting straight back down into the floor. Cracks, wide and ominous, began to spread through the ceiling, like a spider's web forming at an accelerated rate before their very eyes. It was not this, however, that grabbed everyone's attention.

What looked to be a rip opened up in the very air above the point of the blade's entry – as though the very fabric of the world was being torn apart. Transfixed, they could not help but watch, in morbid fascination, as the tear got wider – a breach forming where there should be none.

"W-what's hap… happening…?" stuttered an overwhelmed Jessica.

There was certainly fear in her voice, Harry could tell, but for the most part this was not what caused the hesitancy of her speech. It was the power. For out of the break, getting ever larger by the second, an oppressive sort of magic was seeping in, making the very air they breathed heavier and more difficult to take in.

Harry found he could not answer the teenager, though. This was in small part because he did not fully comprehend, but largely because he was terrified of said answer should his suspicion be proved correct.

But then he saw it – and he knew.

Deep blackness, similar to that of a starless midnight sky, was creeping into the cavern through the newly formed hole. Viscous, like thick tar, though Harry instinctively knew it was near intangible, the… substance continued on. And while it did not look it, it was clear that it was sentient – a rather terrifying realization for them all.

"The Core," Harry breathed, more to himself than anyone else, though they all heard, "the Core is opening…."

Harry's own blood was the key.

**/A\**

**Author's Note:** Please let me know what you guys thought – I'd greatly appreciate it. Thank you :) Also, the voting (Prequel or Sequel) is still open…. (Remember: both will eventually be written and posted; I just want to know from you guys what I should focus on first.)


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